


Where All Good Stories Happen

by lis (LisoftheWoods)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, Not Beta Read, Romance, luwoo as your favorite barista shift ever, pretty much successful johnny, sentimental prose in it's finest, struggling artist taeyong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-06-28 17:28:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15711771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LisoftheWoods/pseuds/lis
Summary: Taeyong just waits for his own rogue planet to crush him.A series of slice of life stories that happened in life of Johnny and Taeyong.





	1. Text him

**Author's Note:**

> I started this text solely to sort out my thoughts and it can correlate to my social aus. I hope I wouldn't bore you to death. Also English is still not my native and still don't have a beta, so please deal with me a bit. ANd thanks for reading - this story might be a most important text for me.

Every good story starts in a coffee shop, and this one is not exception. 

I, as a person who tells this story, that might have a place or might not, can’t say for sure where this stereotype came from. Maybe it was someone’s personal experience, and their story, really good story, started in a coffee shop. Maybe it was just someone really bored and sad who tried that trick – to imagine the story so brightly that it might turn real right where it was created.

In a coffee shop, of course.

Or maybe it was a god, silly tired god who had abandoned the world and decided to dedicate themselves to something way more peaceful. Coffee tasting, for example. And then he met two persons he wondered might get along pretty well. So he played their fates a little bit and wrote a story.

Pretty silly story about two persons were supposed to get along.

 

This silly story starts with Taeyong. He’s twenty-three, he’s young but well worn out as someone’s favorite autumn coat. He is the first to enter the coffee shop: a cube-like house, stylish loft interior, music at the nexus of jazz and electronic, barista with the biggest smile and loud voice and his shift partner – with small smile and silent voice, like if they’re destined to work together.

Taeyong looks around to find himself a place; coffee shop is crowded, a lot of voices, kitchen sounds, coffee maker makes a cozy buzz as loud barista makes a latte. So Taeyong finds a place near the counter at the long table for workshops now decorated with soft flower composition under glass dome. Quiet barista appears near him with the nicest smile waiting for Taeyong to make an order.

It’s just cinnamon cappuccino, his classic favorite that only changes when Taeyong either needs to wake up or striving for something sweet and fluffy, and red velvet cake he wanted for so long. A special red velvet cake with blueberries and light cream.

And while you, my reader, now know what to desire, let me say a bit about Taeyong as of a person. He’s an artist, a struggling one, and doesn’t understand how to end his sufferings. But he’s also a clerk who happened to hate his office job with whole his heart. It drains him, kills all of his impulses. His life is in the loop: morning alarm, breakfast, long bus ride, office, anger, long bus ride home, attempts to create something and yet another fail – or a success that comes infrequent, – dead sleep without any rest or dreams, morning alarm…

But struggle also means fight, and Taeyong fights this Thanatos as if his life is on the line (it is). He's taking long walks after work, visits coffee shops, museums, festivals, book stores, to find an inspiration, a sparkle to fire up his will to fight before he takes his pencil and makes a sketch.

Today is one of those days: Taeyong is juiced dry in the worst meanings of this word, but he still has his will to fight, and the pencil in his fingers runs on paper surface mindlessly while he’s trying to draw a vase in one line.

He’s coffee is still making when the bell above the coffee shop door rings a little and someone says “Hello” with the smile singing in their voice. Taeyong is too engulfed in a one line doodle to turn his head and look, and maybe that’s for good.

He’s just half listening to a voice – americano, double espresso, cinnamon bun, take out, _the weather is too nice to sit inside._

Taeyong just sighs and turns his head to see that person taking a place across the table. _He’s tall, and beautiful and probably has an interesting life,_ Taeyong thinks, still looking at the person across of him. Inky black hair complimenting heart-shaped face and honey skin, Nirvana t-shirt and brown coat, slightly ripped jeans, _horizon blue_ , Taeyong thinks, noticing his favorite watercolor shades in real life by his usual.

And then the person looks up at him with silent question in coffee-brown eyes.

Taeyong freezes for a moment – but smile appears on his lips before he manages to get scared of his own dumb, oh _so dumb_ , idea.

“Can you please”, he says, moving his sketchbook across the table to a stranger who was about to look on his phone but also froze, “Draw some random lines and scribbles so I could practice composition or…”.

It’s when it hits Taeyong – _what the hell he is doing._

“Or something else”, he ends a second later, and it feels like it took him an eternity to finish this and add: “If you don’t mind. Of course”.

The stranger’s gaze is heavy like Mjollnir but when the said stranger smiles it’s just a firework of golden sparkles, and Taeyong would gasp if he was a bit more conscious. But luckily, he’s not.

“Sure thing. You’re an artist, right?”, stranger’s voice is also bright and just nice, and Taeyong can’t and won’t believe that something like this is real and actually breaths.

“R-Right”.

“This is a great sketch”, comments stranger while leaving random lines and figures on another page of the spread. “This one”, he points on one line vase, “Is really impressive”.

“You think so?”, Taeyong chuckle is so nervous. “It’s just… for practice”.

“I can tell”, the stranger smiles. “Good work, you’re-”.

He wasn’t able to finish – the loud barista exclaimed _“Your americano and cinnamon bun”_ and placed his order on the counter with a smile brighter than thousand suns.

“Oh, thanks”, the stranger smiles – and leaves Taeyong starstruck, with zero chances to overcome this encounter and heart beating so fast that he takes few minutes to realize the stranger is gone and the latte and red velvet cake Taeyong asked for is already beside him.

***

“Yuta”.

“What?”.

“You can speak right now, right?”.

They live in the same town but Yuta is mostly busy when Taeyong calls. It might be anything: Yuta’s actual work or his gaming channel or his boyfriend, who is also busy with his own gaming channel. And Taeyong just hates to call in those moments when Yuta is busy with one of these things – but he’s actually lucky today.

He’s in an empty bus on his way home and his whole body hurts because of how he hates coming back home today. He would better walk around the town mindlessly but the fact is, he still needs his healthy amount of sleep to function at his work properly tomorrow.

“Something happened today”.

“I’m all ears”.

Taeyong can tell that Yuta doesn’t expect too much; it’s easy for Taeyong to develop a crush on a complete stranger who in the end will already be with someone, and it’s not the first time when something’s happening at the coffee shop – so Yuta is ready to listen about another crush or about yet another weird situation Taeyong might create himself.

“So I was in my favorite coffee shop, right?”, Taeyong starts from afar, “I was sketching and waiting for my order when this tall human nonsense came in”.

“Okay, I already love how _tall human nonsense sounds_ , but is it a good or a bad way?”.

“Good. Good, Yuta, it’s just… perfect. He’s like all I ever dreamed of, so I guess this why something in my head just… You know…”.

“What?”.

“I don’t know, Yuta, something just made me slide him my sketchbook and ask him to doodle there so I could make it, you know, a base for composition or something like this”.

Taeyong’s voice gets more quiet with every word he says and Yuta’s amusement just gets bigger. He laughs so loud that Taeyong puts his phone away from his ears for a few seconds.

“Why are you so loud…”.

“Because you’re funny. And? What the guy did?”, now Taeyong can hear how Yuta is actually all ears and can imagine him fidgeting on wherever he’s sitting now.

“He scribbled some things and I actually managed to draw from them but…”.

“But?”.

“He also left me his number”.

“Holy shit…”.

“I- I don’t even know when he made it, I was just looking at him and at the page because I was kinda scared that he can draw a dick somewhere”.

“Well, I guess a dick would be, like, outright invitation”, Yuta snorts and giggles again. “Well, I guess you found yourself a man”.

“But I wasn’t even trying!!”.

“It always happens like this!!”, says Yuta, mocking Taeyong’s desperate tone. “Taeyong. Just text him. Use your brain. He thought you’re cute and left you his number, so go for him”.

“But what if…”, Taeyong is trying to protest but Yuta suddenly just ends the call – and next second Taeyong got a message from him saying _I’m not gonna listen. Text him._

End of discussion.

Taeyong is at home, drinking his third cup of water when he notice that he’s staring at his bag where the sketchbook is hidden. He makes a step, another step – but turns away right when the idea of actually texting that guy crossed his mind.

Nope.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

It’s all hard for Taeyong it really is. He might be jealous of people who found someone they can love and who loves them back. He wants sweet dates, holding hands, laugh a lot and care about someone as much as they cares about him. Until now everyone who tried to make an impression on Taeyong were of these things. 

One of them was his coworker who Taeyong liked, but it turned out that this guy is a party animal and is an actual ass who’s cheating on his girlfriend. Another guy was talking about fate to much on their first date: they were discussing their hobbies. Taeyong wasn’t too sure if it’s right to compare drawing, the thing he wants to make his living, and collecting action figures, but the guy decided they are like separated twins or just soulmates and was about to propose. Taeyong ran away before he found himself married with two kids and army of figures.

There was another person in his past, that boy who was four years older than Taeyong. Taeyong had big ass platonic crush (from Yuta’s words) on him but never actually thought about it. They used to spend their time in the neighbourhood cafè where they talked about complete anything, and even if Taeyong was almost a kid compared to that guy, he never felt belittled because of his age. But then the guy moved somewhere else, and Taeyong found himself lonely – with big ass platonic crush feeling raw and hot in his throat like a flu.

And now, at the age of 23, Taeyong never had real relationships, and at this point 23 years old he’s actually afraid of having them. Another human needs his attention, and giving attention needs time, quite a lot, and Taeyong doesn’t have any. He doesn’t even sure if he has time to, like, rest.

At least procrastination don’t ask him and just takes all the time it needs.

 

 **10:**  
Instead of procrastinating

CALL HIM

TEXT HIM

do whatever!!

you were so fucking jelly when i got a bf

 **ty:**  
i wasn’t??

being happy for you and wishing i had someone doesn’t mean i was jelly!

 **10:**  
see, you WISH

 **ty:**  
i am not now

 **10:**  
don’t tell me

 **ty:**  
not even trying

 **10:**  
i just know you’re going to start that song about how you love can find you but you can’t find your dream job

 **ty:**  
yuta’s wise words weren't like this but i guess i can use it

 **10:**  
ugh do what you want but don’t come here to cry when you find out he fell in love with you from the first sight but you missed this wonderful opportunity

 **ty:**  
i’m not talking to you at all it’s just useless

 

Not like talking with Ten was useless – he always clears Taeyong’s head when he’s too steamed up or too stressed to even do something simple properly. Taeyong might be disciplined AF at work, but when he’s in his comfort zone – at home, for example, – he can ruin himself with his own hands to complete mess.

And maybe Ten is right. Maybe he really should – you know, text him, that guy that Taeyong always dreamed of.

Well, that thought disappears as he falls in unquiet sleep full of strange, chaotic sleep.


	2. Rogue Planet

The more Taeyong looks at his friends – employed people with their significant ones, reaching their life goals and overcoming hardships as if their life is actual Disney movie; he could actually imagine them singing songs and dancing, forever being happy even when the troubles flooding. Of course, nothing is how it seems, and Ten is in four month long separation from his boyfriend after a long exhausting month of Ten being sick at the hospital, and parents of Yuta’s boyfriend are so against them that they found a way to poison their lives from distance. But that’s just their life with all their hardships and obstacles seems so bright when Taeyong feels stuffed in his own room.

Taeyong’s life highly reminds him of that “Melancholia” movie – tedious tautomotor if he can put it in two words.

He just waits for his own rogue planet to crush him.

 

He’s working from home because he felt sick since the morning – and how can you call it “working”. He has nothing to do so he just waits for any task that his boss can drop in email, and to spend a day in better way he just started drawing – a picture that he was holding so long in his head, the tall nonsense he saw last week surrounded by sunflowers.

It’s been a week. honestly, and the number of the stranger is still in his sketchbook – and was almost added in phone contacts but Taeyong’s finger “slipped” and he deleted it before Yuta could notice that he even tried.

It’s october, but Taeyong can’t get rid of sunflowers that flooded his mind once he woke up from one of his chaotic colorful dreams few days before.

Taeyong feels in his place with the brush in his hand, with some indie music flowing in the background, with the sunbeams playing on his table. He thinks how great it would be to have a studio – somewhere on 5th floor with big windows, filled with sun and flowers. He thinks how good it feels to do what you know how to do and what you love to do.

Taeyong thinks he’s happy when he notices the boss’ text with another boring task he’s now assigned. It feels like a cold shower, and Taeyong almost ready to cry and slam his laptop out of the window.

Well, he just doesn’t have enough money to do it. And he can’t quit this job because he doesn’t have enough money to stay still while he’s trying to get an illustrator job or something. So he keeps on going.

 

“You sure you want it? You said you felt bad after your breakfast with milk and there’s milk in it”, Kun points at the desert Taeyong decided to take – Jungwoo, that quiet barista, was half-way to take it when he heard Kun.

“Yeah, I don’t really care”, Taeyong waves at Kun and nods Jungwoo, who placed the desert on a wide black plate. “Just want something tooth-rotting sweet”.

“Uh-oh”, Kun eyes him with a worry. “Is something happened?”.

“My boring life, for example”.

“And?”.

“My life, I guess”.

“Aaaand?”.

“Maybe, my boring life?”.

“Shit, Taeyong!”.

Couple at the table next to them give Kun and Taeyong a look. Taeyong just snorts.

“What? That’s true. Today I once again caught myself at thought about how done I am with… all of this. Not this, I mean”, Taeyong points at Kun and coffee shop – the usual, of course. “I mean, my job, people there. Being unnoticed, too”.

Kun just nods. “Ah, this. Right”.

They’re silent for a bit – Taeyong listens to whatever this coffee shop plays; weird mix of jazz and electronic, Taeyong can’t even tell if he likes it – but this is a good background, so he doesn’t mind. This music reminds him of _Mood Indigo_ – the movie he saw this summer, strange but nice like drinking something from pianocktail.

He didn’t notice how the door opens, how someone gives him a short glance and heads to the counter. He only notices the fresh scent of perfume and how music changed – he can hear the lyric, he can hear the sound, but not with his ears but his head. The song about being alone with a room with someone they afraid to talk to – and it annoys Taeyong because, firstly, he’s not alone, and secondly, there’s no one to fall in love with.

“Uh, Taeyong, this guy at the counter seat was looking at you as if you owed him at least money”, Kun whispers.

“W-what, what money, why?..”, Taeyong looks around until his gaze falters over a tall nonsense, who seats at the counter while waiting for his order, a book in his hand and a backpack placed near his feets.

And through the music Taeyong hears in his head there’s a rumbling, crashing sound, the hum that overused in epic movies nowadays.

His rogue planet crashed him when he was already grounded to the star dust but still needs to understand it. Which will happen – but much later.

 

“Did you…?”.

“Oh, no, no, Kun, no”, Taeyong smiles nervously. “I just was… uh… weird to him once”.

“That was a lot of no’s here…”, Kun raises his eyebrows. “Was weird? How?”.

“Asked him to draw random lines in my sketchbook. So I can draw from them. You know, the usual”.

Kun bursts out a small laugh, glancing on the stranger and looking at Taeyong right away.

“And he?”.

“He did. Even said that my _hashtag artist aesthetic hashtag artsy_ one line doodle of the bottle was great”.

“And?”.

“He got his coffee sand left”.

“And?”.

“Kun”. 

“What? He looks like he’s at least smart”.

Taeyong sighs and just shakes his head, so Kun understands that Taeyong not in the mood to talk about that. Kun seems disappointed but has enough of courtesy not to continue this topic. They talk about whatever: Taeyong listens about Kun’s recent troubles at work (like some programming director hitting on him or his boss’ amazing possibility to fuck up completely everything), then Kun listens about Taeyong’s recent fight with someone at work (that ended with Taeyong’s win), and then they just sigh because adult life hurted them harder than any of them expected.

When Taeyong finally looks up back at the counter, the _tall nonsense_ isn’t there and nowhere to be found. It makes Taeyong a bt sad but he finally breathes at ease until the moment he and Kun go to the counter to pay. Yukhei, the loud barista, suddenly jumps to the coffee machine while Jungwoo, his partner, just smiles and asks them to wait a bit – and receives Taeyong’s card to pay their check.

Yukhei places two cups of coffee on the counter and slides it to Taeyongs and Kun gently. “Special treat”, he goes with a widest smile possible. and Taeyong just looks at him kind of perplexed.

“Well, you visit us quite often”, Jungwoo just smiles. “This is on the house, just our new drink – we’ll make it to menu next week”.

“Oh, it’s so nice to feel kind of... privileged?”, Kun snorts, taking a cup from Taeyong’s hands.

“Please, come more often”.

And so Kun and barista laughs and talk a bit more, while Taeyong can’t avert his smile from the coffee cup in his hand. It’s a big cup of cappuccino with cinnamon, hot and sweet, and it warms Taeyong’s hands through his sweater paws. He takes a sip mindlessly – and just like that he comes back home.

-

Next week makes Taeyong just too tired to go out, so he goes back home right after work and never touches his pencils or watercolors, keeping in mind that it never works out in a mood like this. He even forgot about his sketchbook, which is weird for him – especially when last time he saw it was when he was doodling something he got in mind in a bus on his way home.

And when new week finally rolled in, and Taeyong regained access to his creative flow as well as he found mental power to open the sketchbook, he found out that the sketchbook is nowhere to be found.

His backpack, his mailman bag, his desk, room, and even his grandmother’s house – sketchbook is missing and digits of the coffeeshop as well.

Taeyong can’t tell what hurts him the most.

He dwells around his room for few hours, thinking and overthinking, his room and his head filled with the mix of emotions. One of them, disappointment: someone _finally_ was interested in him, someone who looks like a dream, a miracle, Taeyong still can’t forget his smile – and how cold he looked at first but his face lighted up when he heard Taeyong. And now he can’t text him Second, anger. At himself mostly – not only he was such a coward and haven’t texted someone who left him a number, but also for being a mess and forgetting his own sketchbook somewhere.

Probably, on the bus.

And another emotion – relief. Now, when he that stranger’s number, he can forget about the possibility of having a love life and focus on something more important – art, for example. Taeyong noticed long time ago: when he feels _something like this_ , he can’t do anything; all his thoughts rounds around the person he has crush on, he can’t figure out any story, and his life is just wholesome mess.

Taeyong hates it. 

And so, he assumes, everything’s for the better

 

But it didn’t last long. Next day Taeyong finds himself buying coffee in his usual coffee shop, Yukhei easily recognizing him and preparing cinnamon before Taeyong even said anything. Taeyong’s still obvious to what he is doing when he looks around and when he jerks to the sound of the door opening. 

He’s at the bus stop with his cup of coffee when he hears his own voice. “He wasn’t there”.

Next day he’s chilling at the coffee shop with new sketchbook: his mind completely empty, the page – too, and he looks at guests almost desperately, but none of them looks like that stranger who he, probably, will never meet again.

And just like this whole week passes. Taeyong spends quarter of his paycheck on coffee, and last cappuccino he gets on Sunday tastes bitter – not like he used to. He left the coffee shop once Yukhei got him his cup; to the bus stop – as always.

So he can’t notice a person entering the coffee shop few seconds after – holding his sketchbook in his hands and the most warm and kind of a sly smile on his lips.


	3. Mr. Chance

Let’s agree, it is actually pain in ass to look for someone you met only once without knowing his name, occupation or at least places they like to visit. I’m pretty much sure you had this kind of situation. Maybe, it wasn’t as bad as Taeyong’s case, but still – do you ever tried to meet someone you only saw once in a huge city full of people who’s trying to meet someone else?

At least Taeyong can comfort himself with one thought: person he’s trying to meet has a favorite coffee shop. This one, where Taeyong’s sitting now by the counter, sipping on his cinnamon cappuccino and glancing around – not to find a person, but to draw people around him.

He has new hair color, new coat and boots, and he also wears new cap – something like those boys with newspapers would wear in historical movies. He looks around, here and there, and new sketchbook on his lap becomes home to the different characters he see around.

He already accepted his unlucky fate – and now he’s here, waiting for a person who only left him number. It would be way easier of he also got a name, but, Taeyong muses, nothing can be perfect. Even perfect people like that tall guys he desperately trying to catch (Taeyong seriously thought that _he can fuck around and steal fairy’s clothes to keep him_ ) can forget something important.

Like their name.

 _Oh god_ , it hits Taeyong. _What if the guy literally forgot his name and all he got is his number and he was trying to get help, but I ended up being a dumbass?_

Nah, not like it’s possible. He paid with credit card and also was pretty much in his conscious so it’s more likely that he forgot to write his name because Yukhei called him to get his drink.

That’s a whole new voice in Taeyong’s head, and it’s a really soft one, Taeyong actually really likes it. He scribbles something like “draw that guy who spoke in your head” before he lifted his gaze up, on Jungwoo, who was handing him another cup of coffee.

“On the house”, Jungwoo says, and it’s his voice were in Taeyong’s head a moment ago.

Taeyong blinks: one, twice, he took a cup of coffee from Jungwoo’s hands and nodded slightly before looking at his sketchbook again.

“Was I… like… speaking out loud?”, he asks, knowing Jungwoo is still here.

“I don’t know”, Jungwoo shrugs. “A lot of people talking here, you know.”

They really do.

Taeyong just nods with silent “thank you” and dives back in his sketchbook for another half of an hour just to leave coffee shop twenty minutes before his fairy enters it again with a sketchbook in his hands.

“Hey, Johnny”, Yukhei greets him with a smile on a million, shakes his hand, while Jungwoo sways somewhere between tables serving coffee and late, like almost nightly late, brunches.

“Again with that notebook? What is it?”, Yukhei points on the sketchbook just to receive a judging gaze from Johnny.

“It’s a sketchbook. Found it in a bus. And I even know whose this sketchbook is, I just can’t meet him here”

“You sure he’s going here?”, Yukhei still acts like he knows nothing; not because he wants to mess with them, no, he’s too pure for that kind of stuff. He’s too invested in their future, Jungwoo say, more than in his own. And, to give Jungwoo a justice, he’s also very, very interested. So they have everything planned if something goes wrong.

“Of course he is, I saw him here at least three times already!”, protesting, Johnny takes a sip from his cup. “And he’s also an artist, they love visiting that kind of places. You know… ambient or jazz music, tasty things, nice vibe from every furniture in the room, nice liquid soap in the toilet…”

“I’ll tell the boss you expressed appreciation for his personal project and biggest investment into coffee shop’s interior”, Yukhei laughs, wiping the milk off the steaming machine. “Is he cute?”

“Who?”

“The boy you’re trying to find.”

“Oh, really cute, he was all red when he asked me to doodle in his sketchbook. And when I met his gaze last time I saw him here.”

“When was it though?”

Johnny sighs; his expression fell as he looked at the sketchbook beside him. It smells like paper and pencils and nothing more – well, maybe the bus also, and there’s so much characters and stories that happened to them. Johnny really wants to hear what happened – with the boy, a prince, running around with the crown too big to his head, with a girl, who wanted to go on adventure and bought the sword online, but it was only half of lond, two-handed sword.

He felt the fascination of a child when he saw that doodles. He was laughing at the strange faces that cute artist drew around his phone number. He was really concerned when he saw a lot of figures in pain on one of the pages. And, perhaps, last drawing, shaky, hurried, of the bus in the middle of big waters and creepy branches.

“Few weeks ago, I guess. He was with his friend. Remember, I asked you to get them coffee.”

“Oh”, Yukhei’s surprise looks more like “aha, so you remember.” Jungwoo, who’s finally back to the counter, gives him the judging look.

“What? I really can’t remember the cute artist he’s talking about. We have a lot of guests every day.”

“Not all of them sit here with a sketchbook for hours in the pose of question mark and forgetting about their own order”, Jungwoo says, poking his shift partner in the cheek with a spoon.

“Well, I have a shit memory.”

“Oh yes, you do.”

“Well, not everyone gotta be smart!”

Johnny, with the sketchbook in his hands, smiles while his mind is absent – and he clearly doesn’t really hear whatever baristas keep talking about while serving their guests always perfect coffee. It takes him few minutes to get back to his coffee and clear his mind.

It will work out somehow. Earlier or later, this way or another.

***

Taeyong woke up as early as his mental safety allows; he did his hair, made sure his skin is glowing, decided to wear the most stylish shirt and classic black skinnies with biker boots, and got on a bus.

Just to get coffee to go and walk his way to office on his own – just few blocks up from the coffee shop.

It’s another gloomy morning of mid-fall, and Taeyong feels a bit cold when he runs to a coffee shop, hiding hands in his pockets. Right when he’s near the glass door, his phone rings – it Ten, out of sudden.

“Can you believe this?”, his voice is full of outrage. “This idiot decided to go back before the end of the term!”

At first Taeyong can’t understand a thing, and he just stands there, looking at the door knob in his hand. Then he gets it. “Oh, Jaehyun? What, he got tired of spending money? France is a pricey place to study…”

“Yeah, and last time his parents told him he gotta be more rational with money but guess who doesn’t give any hecks?!”

“Not like you weren’t talking about it. You knew since the day one he’ll be back before the end of term. Well, on the day one you were happy for him but now… Hey, medium cappuccino with cinnamon, please.”

It’s another shift, so the girl who Taeyong never saw here before just nods; he’s waiting near the counter, listening to Ten’s rants about his boyfriend who decided to study in Paris but ended up dropping out because, no matter how wealthy his family is, he’s a big spender who actually feels guilty about money he wasted without any use. It might be funny if Ten weren’t the person who helped Jaehyun with all the papers and sent him to France when they barely get a chance to meet each other for more than a month.

“...Well, I guess it’s for good”, Taeyong snorts, his nose is already full of the coffee aroma. “You missed them. And you once said you’ll be happy if he’s back earlier.”

“Yeah, there’s just one problem. I will on my own trip when he’s back.”

“Well, you guys just will always- Oh shit, god, I’m so sorry!

Taeyong haven’t noticed him. He took his coffee and turned back to go to work finally, but bumped into someone _very tall_ , in a white shirt and black coat. Taeyong’s hot cinnamon cappuccino opened and spilled all over this white shirt, and the person hissed, jumping away from Taeyong’s path.

And when Taeyong finally looks up at him, it’s that _tall nonsense_. Johnny, that is.

“Don’t tell me you fucking spilled your whole coffee at someone”, he can hear Ten’s voice in his phone. “Ten out of ten, huh?”. But his laughter mutes the cracking sound that filled Taeyong’s head.

“Bull’s eye”, Johnny just smiles, standing there, all in coffee.

Taeyong’s head is malfunctioning.

He takes Johnny’s hand and drags him in the restroom, scaring away the girl who just left it.

“I’m- I’m really sorry, I didn’t noticed, maybe we can wash it somehow…”, he mutters, trying to take off Johnny’s coat, while he’s just watching him, highly amused.

Taeyong’s red to the tips of his ears, he can’t look up to see Johnny. He’s trying to clean Johnny’s shirt with paper napkins, but nothing helps, and he only stops when he hears Johnny’s laugh. The “hehehehe” with a small inhale in the end.

“Wait, it won’t help, I just get back home and switch shirts, don’t worry”, he’s laughing softly, while taking Taeyong’s hands in his just to prevent him from another attempt of cleaning.

Taeyong freezes for a second.

“But it was probably expensive….”

“It’s just a shirt. It’s okay”, smiling, Johnny shakes his head before Taeyong even started talking. “If you want to apologize, just call me already.”

“But I…”, Taeyong looks at their hands, still holding to each other. “I lost it.”

“I know. I’ll give it again. And also take your number so you won’t run away.”

From Johnny’s eyes to his lips, from his lips to their hands still holding each other, Taeyong traced his gaze and felt his guts twisting, scared of sudden contact, too close for him to endure at this point. Johnny looks way better in person, up close, when his head tilted in somewhat cat-like gesture. It makes Taeyong nauseous a little – as if he’s standing in the edge of skyscraper rooftop.

“How do you know?”, Taeyong’s voice is husky when he looks up again. “About the sketchbook.”

There’s a small pause.

“I figured. If I was you, I would call the guy like me right away.” If Taeyong felt the lie, he decided not to focus on it. Instead, he takes a step back, freeing his hands from Johnny’s fingers.

“Why should I call someone whose name I don’t know?”, Taeyong crosses hands in front of his chest, feeling insecure in the restroom with the dim lights and strong flower scent oozing from somewhere above them. With Johnny’s gaze fixed on him and not leaving.

“To get a name, for example?”, Johnny shrugged. “It’s Johnny, by the way.”

Taeyong just nodded. “Taeyong.”

“Nice to meet you again, Taeyong.”

“Yeah, in a… such fancy place and all.”

That’s when they hear it: a fairy tale sounding from the speaker, placed in the corner of the restroom. _The Nutcracker_. Johnny pressed his lips thin, trying to stop himself from smiling, but Taeyong bursted with laugh – and it made Johnny laugh too. So they were standing in small restroom, surrounded by fancy furniture, flower aroma and drowsy man from the speaker reading _The Nutcracker_ in different voices.

“I should go to work”, Taeyong’s voice almost whisper, when he looks at Johnny – and his heart does it again, cracking and hurting sweetly. “And you too, probably. Who in their right mind will be at coffee shop looking like a whole model ready to hit the podium…”

“Nice to hear you liked my outfit, but it’s kinda ruined now”, Johnny touched his shirt, still wet from coffee. “But it’s really okay. Even if this is how I earn a chance to take your number and give you mine again, I’m glad.”

“That’s cheezy.”

“That’s how I am.”

Another pause. They learn each other features for a bit, Taeyong tracing the smile on Johnny’s lips, Johnny printing the soft look of Taeyong’s eyes in his mind.

“I like cheese”, Taeyong snorts, and Johnny lets out a half huff, half laugh, another “hehehe”, that makes Taeyong to laugh too. “So, your number?”

***

 **me**  
decided to text you first because only god knows when you’ll gather your courage

 **me**  
hope your work day will be short and nice

 **mr. chance**  
it will be full of suffering because of texting you i’ll be working my ass off

 **mr. chance**  
god, pretend it didn’t happen

 **mr. chance**  
delete this text

 

Johnny laughs, looking at his phone with the softest look possible.

“What are you laughing?”, he hears Irene, one of the models he’s working with; she stands beside him, looking at the shots on the laptop’s screen.

“I finally got a number of the boy I was talking about”, Johnny slides his phone in the pocket, turning to Irene with a small smile. “And it looks like he kinda likes me back too.”

Irene’s face lits up as she claps a little with her small hands. “That sounds amazing! Is he, like, muse-worthy?”, she asks, and Johnny needs few minutes to process it.

Muse.

Right, he was searching for a muse.

For a past couple of months he was struggling – his work wasn’t as satisfying as it used to be, and with all his honesty, Johnny was at the verge of deleting every single photo he took. But now he loved all of them. He loved that smudged photo of Irene he took just now, where she jumps around, showing off new collection of fancy loafers, but he likes it not for commercial use. It’s a pure joy in her smile, the bow around her neck looks like a lilac cloud. And even if it smudged, ghostly smudged, smudged for purpose, it looks great. It looks something Johnny wants for himself. Almost mew feeling after all those months.

“I don’t know”, he tells Irene softly, “If he’s a muse or not, but he’s a chance for me. And I’ll take that chance no matter what”.

Irene just smiles at it, stepping back to the stylist to fix her hair and makeup. 

**mr. chance**  
delete this text

 **me**  
never

 **me**  
how about me and you at our coffee shop tonight at 7?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so they finally met! ruined shirt is a fair price, isn't?  
> thanks for reading this until now, more's coming up sooner or later~  
> here's way you can find me if you're interested:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/touchtofeel)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/foxnlis)


	4. La La Land

_Our._

He said _our._

Taeyong was at the kitchen. It’s a lunch break, and he’s eating something he took from home not even feeling the taste. His cheeks burn. He narrowed his eyes just to soften the itching feeling at the corners. His finger froze above keyboard.

What should he answer?

“What are you doing?”, Hyoyeon, his elder coworker, joined him at the tabe with a piece of carrot between her teeths.

“Why would a person call a place where you met _our_?”, Taeyong asked, blocking his phone. He’ll answer, but a bit later.

“Well… Because it contains a happy memory of meeting you?”, Hyoyeon shrugs, biting a piece of carrot. “And if they want to meet you there again, they want even more happy memories for both of you”.

Taeyong nods slightly. Okay, good memories with Johnny actually sound cool, he thinks, smiling and picking up his phone, sending Johnny _“it would be perfect”_ , and he really means it because he feels like he’s flying and everything is finally nice.

But then it just hits him.

If Johnny’s really interested in him, it’s just obvious that Taeyong got to give him an attention and time. And Taeyong just do not have enough time with his fixation on his goal – illustration work, that’s it.

And he also sucks in paying people attention, which casually goes from the previous matter. He just doesn't have time to think about something else. All his crying about wanting a boyfriend are nothing but procrastination. And need in anyone to have mental and physical connection with is nothing but social construct. Thus, Taeyong doesn’t really needs someone to pay him attention. Like Taeyong once lived a month without contacting anyone from his friends and barely talking to the household because everyone were hella busy and he was completely fine.

But the message sent, and Johnny already replied with something, and there’s no way back. A painful lump in Taeyong’s stomach makes him fall on the table with small whine. He’s horrible. He wouldn’t be able to tell Johnny in his gorgeous face with the smile full of light that he _just can’t_. And Taeyong broke up enough through the texts to do it again it feels even more bad.

But wait. Taeyong gets up, looking at Hyoyeon with a confused look. She looks back with a question. But whole conversation happens in Taeyong’s head, so he doesn’t reply.

Why he decided that Johnny interested in him in _that_ way. Maybe there’s something different he want. Friendship, for example. Or even better – he thought that Taeyong’s good at drawing so he wanted to make a commission or suggest a project or something else. People give and take numbers left and right for different reasons, and Taeyong’s doesn’t need to be a romantic one. Right?

“Right”, Taeyong hums to himself, satisfied with the way he turned everything upside down. “I’ll just go and listen what he wants to suggest me. What if it’s some interesting project?”

Hyoyeon raised her eyebrows in a bigger confusion.

“You just made some conclusion without actually analyzing, right?”

Taeyong blinks. Caught red-handed.

“Noooo waaaay”, he sings, finally back to his food. “I’m a very rational person, Hyo.”

“Where?..”

Taeyong shrugs with a little mischievous smile. So what he did? They were doomed from the start. They were doomed from Taeyong. Besides, he’ll lose nothing if he ends this now?

Right.

Yeah, right.

-

And with that he can’t work until the end of the day, sighing and walking around the office, trying to make up his mind and decide already – if he really wants to tell Johnny nothing would happen or he can give it a try. He actually can’t remember last time he was on a date. At least, the date that he liked. All of them were somewhere nearly disgusting, without an exception, so it actually right to say Taeyong had never had a boyfriend.

So what if he just tries? A bit. At least a bit.

And then it's suddenly the time he should go in a coffee shop, and so he does, holding on the strap of his bag, breath shaky, fear spreading in his body, filling him to the top.top. His head pounds when he enters coffee shop – Johnny’s already here, behind the booked table at the corner, looking at menu like it’s his first time he sees it, exploring positions, and only noticing Taeyong when he comes closer, breath weak.

“Hey”, Johnny’s smile completely kills Taeyong’s breathing function – and he only smiles, surrendering.

How can he say something like this to a person who has the smile like Johnny? The smile that just tells you – whole universe is yours and earth is flat if you want it to be, the sun is spinning around you, Johnny is sun himself. And he shines so bright that Taeyong forgets about rain clouds crowding at the sky above the town.

“Hey”, Taeyong almost whispers. “How was your day?”

“Fine”, Johnny nodded, moving a bit to give Taeyong place. “Right when I thought that I should order you something. Medium cinnamon cappuccino?”

“How do you know?”

“Observation”, Johnny smiles, fixing invisible glasses on his nose, and Taeyong can’t help but laugh, perplexed – and happy. Yes, he’s happy – at least to see this impossible, bright smile that made Taeyong’s heart crack again.

Heartbreak is not when someone leaves you. It’s when you realize the person you see before your eyes is someone you want to live for.

And Taeyong’s heart breaks just beautifully.

They spent a hour and a half just talking about simple nothings – favorite places around the town, coffee shops they like, music they listen, books they read, places they ever been. There’s just few more guests at the coffee shop, and soft ambient and Johnny’s voice lulls Taeyong to drowse. He leans to the pillow behind him, still listening Johnny’s points on Joel and Clementine’s relationships, snorting occasionally when his points are sarcastic and just right.

He’s in a deep drowse when his head drops on the left. Johnny can’t get an answer on a question, so he turns to Taeyong just to find young man napping – and being just cute with his hands hugging a pillow. Johnny scoops closer and leans his back near Taeyong, softly pressing him to his right shoulder and placing Taeyong’s head in the crook of his neck.

And after he closed his eyes, he fell asleep too.

“Isn’t it a perfect date?”, Yukhei pointed in their direction with his chin; he and Jungwoo are off duty, just chilling at the counter with their colleagues.

“What? Napping at the coffee shop?”, Jungwoo smiles. “Yeah, seems like it.”

“Why we never tried it?”

“Because, uh, we can’t really sleep at work?”

“Oh, that’s right…”

Taeyong opens his eyes twenty minutes after with a feeling he dreamed everything that happened today – spilled coffee, Johnny smiling at him, they conversation later again. But when he opens his eyes, it’s Johnny’s hair ticking his cheek and it’s Johnny’s perfume filling his lungs. And coffee shop, almost empty, still smelling like best late, really late brunch.

He’s watching Johnny for a while, his heart racing again; he needs a few moments to process – they were napping like this and no one woke them up, and Taeyong found was using Johnny’s shoulder as a pillow. What an audacity! 

But he liked it. He liked it more than he should right now, and he rested even better than after a long, nice weekend he had god knows how long ago.

It’s amazing.

“Johnny”, he calls him, touching air near Johnny’s shoulder. “I guess we better get an uber. Where do you live? I’ll order.”

Johnny murmurs something, shaking his head, not wanting to open his eyes.

“Let’s just take another coffee and walk a bit. I live nearby.”

“What, you want me to go with you? Nope, that’s not happening. I live in suburbs…”

“What?”, surprise on Johnny’s face makes Taeyong laugh. “You make all the way here from home every day?”

“Uh-huh. You better treasure my time.”

Johnny laughs – the best sound in the world, – and asks a waiter to come.

“Then let’s take coffee and walk to the bus stop where I get you a taxi”, he shrugs cutely, cutely, like it wasn’t enough just to smile. “And worry none, I’ll pay for taxi.”

At this Taeyong wrinkled his nose slightly. “Okay, but it’s first and last time.”

They leave the coffee shop, sharing earphones and copying each other steps to listen to a song that Johnny suddenly remembered. It’s not really comfortable, but Taeyong can’t care less – it feels nice to share a song and coffee, almost like in old cola slogan.

On the half way to the bus stop it’s Taeyong who starts dancing – a pirouette, as of he’s in La La Land. And it’s enough for Johnny to catch the wave of the mood and take Taeyong by the waste, to dance their way to the bus stop, almost spilling their coffee on each other, laughing and hiding eyes as if they embarrassed. But Taeyong is happy, so happy and so in love he can’t even look at Johnny – he’ll be just too obvious, even to himself.

“Well”, Taeyong speaks through the laugh. “A taxi.”

“Oh, right”, Johnny snaps with his fingers. “Let me arrange you a car.”

They stand like this for five minutes, in silence, only music and cold autumn air between them, until Taeyong’s uber comes to the bus stop.

“Text me when you’re home”, asks Johnny, leaning on the car’s door when Taeyong is already inside. “I won’t fall asleep without being sure you’re home.”

“Liar, you were sleeping like a baby at the coffee shop. Guess you’re really tired”, Taeyong furrows slightly, still smiling.

“I was sleeping like this because you were with me”, dead serious, Johnny finds Taeyong’s eyes – and the sensation in his chest makes him take a deep breath, like he emerged from deep, thick liquid.

“I’ll text you”, Taeyong’s voice is silent. “I promise.”

At this, Johnny just smiled.

“See you, then.”

 

When Taeyong is back home, back pressed to closed door, eyes roaming around the hallway – his parent’s old house need a renovation, serious redecoration, – everything that happened less than a hour ago feels like a dream. Taeyong whimpers, walking right past his mother, who already seriously worried – son’s voice sounded so happy when he was calling to say he’s coming home, but now he’s almost crying. And more than that, looks like he doesn’t want to talk about whatever happened.

It takes few minutes to explain, that he needs some time to sort things in his head out, and when mom leaves Taeyong alone with bugs in his head, he hides under the blanket with phone and open messenger.

**me**  
i’m home~ thank you for the taxi

**johnny**  
next time i escort you home myself, it was so sad to see you go alone

“You better not”, Taeyong sniffs, whispering to the phone. “What if I’ll cry just like I do now?”

**me**  
you live in another part of the city, and i can’t let you crash in my room

**johnny**  
right, that would be too soon for the second date

**me**  
so it was a date?

Taeyong can feel how his palms become wet and hot as he’s waiting for the answer. He’s looking at his phone, messenger app designed as one in the Persona game. Taeyong counting seconds, and it feels like eternity passed until he saw new message popping up.

**johnny**  
if you want to call it a date, then sure

Taeyong’s fingers move on his own, as he types the reply.

**me**  
can we not call it a date? it’s a bit early

Then a panicked thought hits him and he types again, scared that Johnny won’t understand him.

**me**  
and, you know, i want you ask for a date first

**me**  
since you gave me your number first

**johnny**  
don’t worry, i get it

**johnny**  
just don’t dump me before i show you that i’m a good guy, okay?

**me**  
okay~ but i want to see your bad sides too

**me**  
you saw some of mines

**johnny**  
that one when you drool me on shoulder?

**me**  
i wasn’t drooling!!

**johnny**  
yeah, no shit

**me**  
good night, johnathan

**me**  
i hope you’ll drool all over your pillow

**johnny**  
don’t call me johnathan!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taeyong's existentional crisis is something johnny will need to fight with, too  
> but he's a great guy, he'll get through it, i promise!  
> thanks again for making it here, i'm happy to share this with you~
> 
> here's way you can find me:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/touchtofeel)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/foxnlis)


	5. Negative Space

It’s another hard week for Taeyong, and the only light he sees in that dark is texting with Johnny. And he is the second person in Taeyong’s life with who he can text twenty four seven – about complete everything. They discussed their favorite childhood games – not video, like tag one or hide and seek one, found out that they have similar taste in food – and even half of world’s popularity loves the same they still found it amazing coincidence. Johnny told Taeyong about his travels around the world, and he traveled a lot – and Taeyong never was outside country so he’s all fascination, ready to absorb any information and remember any fact Johnny told him.

 

It feels amazing – to finally find someone who Taeyong can listen forever, who he can talk to as much as he talks to himself – constantly, that is. And the first person like this in his life was Ten, who is head over heels in his problem. Better be in love, of course, but, Taeyong guessed, not every day his friend’s lives are Disney movies.

 

 **me**  
if i don’t get a vacation next month i’ll quit this shit hole

 

 **johnny**  
wow omg what’s up

 

 **me**  
i can’t get a vacation because i need to watch what new girl writing and my boss still think she’s not ready to work without me

 

 **me**  
i hadn’t had a rest since?? beginning of the year

 

 **johnny**  
they really do not treasure you

 

 **me**  
i’m a corporate slave. we’re not treasured here, you know

 

Taeyong sighs, placing his phone near him and his head on the laptop’s keyboard pressing whatever letters right in his working document. He’s tired, too tired to work another an hour and a half; he looks around with visible irritation, Hyeyeon raising an eyebrow as she notices the looks on him. Shaking his head, Taeyong turned away – and them, five minutes later, he’s with his bag near the exit, typing an urgent, really urgent message.

 

 **me**  
can we meet? like, really soon. better in 30 mins

 

That’s too much, too much for him leaving office with last tasks not finished, too much for Johnny to stop doing whatever he’s doing and run to Taeyong wherever he wants to meet. But it’s vital for Taeyong to see him – to remind himself that Johnny is real, not a chatbot that was somehow installed on Taeyong’s phone by accident.

 

 **johnny**  
what happened? i can be in our coffee shop in 10 minutes

 

 **johnny**  
good thing i’m living close, right?

 

And that’s a really good thing.

 

They see each other in _their_ coffee shop exactly ten minutes later. Taeyong just took a place near at the counter, looking around in case someone will leave soon, and Johnny, standing in doors, they both out of breath.

“What happened?”, Johnny asks, coming closer. Taeyong looks behind his back – there’s a table at the corner near the window, and Taeyong pushes Johnny to that spot, hands pressing on bigger man’s chest.

“Let’s take a seat. And… nothing really happened, I just wanted to see you.” At Johnny’s surprised, lost glance, Taeyong smiles, hiding weak smile. “Sorry of I distracted you from some work…”

“Nah, I was just editing some photos”, Johnny waves Taeyong’s worries away, and next few minutes they spend deciding what they want to order.

They go for the simple: Cesar waffles for Taeyong with his usual cinnamon cappuccino, pancakes with bacon and poached eggs with huge americano for Johnny. And then they just seat in silence, looking elsewhere.

It feels almost natural to sit like this, their shoulders are touching, their breath synchronized, the heat of their bodies becomes hotter than normal body temperature. They’re silent until Jungwoo – today their shift again, – serves them the order, and asks if everything’s alright.

And somehow the questions stays in the air when Jungwoo moves from them to get another order – and Taeyong can see it in Johnny’s eyes.

“Sorry again”, Taeyong mutters. “I was just so tired, I literally psyched… And I thought that seeing you will make me feel better.”

“Does it helped?”, Johnny smiles, and Taeyong can feel it in his bones – his warmth, his _care_ , and it fills his lungs to the top, it stays in Taeyong’s throat – and words leave his mouth with a struggle.

“Y-yeah”, Taeyong whispers, and second ago he finds himself in Johnny’s hands, cheek pressing to his firm shoulder, nostrils itching pleasantly to the sensation of Johnny’s perfume – the most intimate base notes. Taeyong takes a few second to calm his heart before snuggling closer, his nose touching Johnny’s neck and hands locking on his waist. “Hey?”

“Mhhm?”

Taeyong lets out a sigh. “Let’s get wasted somewhere”, he whispers gently. “Like, in the bar, with some nice music and stuff… Please.”

“Oh, god”, Johnny’s chuckle is a bit nervous – but he just nuzzles his cheek to the top of Taeyong’s head. “Good thing it’s friday, right?”

Taeyong only nods, slowly pulling back, to his waffles and cappuccino.

“I meant it”, he says, looking at his plate. “I want to get some drinks with you. I remember that you’re okay with alcohol…”

“Well, I'm down to it", Johnny takes his cup, shrugging. "Let's finish here and go somewhere you like."

"I don't even know what place I like here."

"Then in my favorite place. Promise, you'll like it too."

And soon they are in the bar, occupying the counter with some nice cocktails and snacks, looking at people dancing and chatting around, occasionally sharing smiles and glances. Taeyong is already lightheaded -- after just one simple drink that tasted cherry and cinnamon. He feels Johnny's elbow near his hand, the scent of his cologne still bright even when there's so many beautiful people around.

"Why won't you quit that job?"

It's a sudden question after long silence, and Taeyong needs to collect his thoughts.

"Well...", he coughs. alcohol scratching his throat. "You know, I'm kind of an artist, right? Not that popular. My art accounts almost dead, to be honest. Why? Because I have no time to do art. Why? Because of my work."

Taeyong's smile is a bit drunk and bitter as this cocktail was, and he moves empty glass away, placing head on his folded hands.

"It's some kind of shitty Thanatos. I can't quit my job because I need money that I won't get from drawing in the state I am right now. Maybe I should just quit – and start actually promote myself, but I..."

Johnny looks at Taeyong sighing, his breath shaking as if he's about to break in tears.

"I'm too scared. This place drains me, but I can't even switch – because there's only two things I can do, and it's writing and drawing. I'm useless in all way possible."

At that he smiles again, straightening his back again and stealing a piece of mango from Johnny's plate. "You met me in the worst time possible, you know? Stressed, tired, overworked to the bones. Apathetic.Totally not my prettiest."

At Taeyong's little snort, Johnny just smiles, hand reaching to his pinkish hair, moving one stubborn lock away from Taeyong's eyes.

"That's better. I know you're a real person."

"But my state is... infectious. Toxic, not less", Taeyong's voice almost unheard because of all the music and laugh around them, but Johnny manages to hear – and still leans closer, bumping his shoulder in Taeyong's. "You might get hurt."

"Well, that's something we can work out if we want to."

"You're reckless."

"And pretty much tough, so it would be hard for you to hurt me – especially when you're so tired..."

Taeyong rolls his eyes, laughing, head drops in Johnny's shoulder as they sit even closer – Johnny almost stood up from his bar stool. "You're annoying and cringy, but so is me, so I guess we really can work things out."

The wind in one’s head is never fair, and so is Taeyong’s, and he can hear himself saying something like “I want to smooch you”, at which Johnny gives him smug smirk.

“Well… Try it, then.”

* * *

It’s just amazing how much one’s shoes can tell about them. For example, Johnny, at this right moment, wears nice pink brown chelsea boots, made of good suede. His boots are absolutely clean and have no sign of the rain that poured on streets for few hours straight.

And then here’s Taeyong – old, comfy timberlands, pretty shabby and still wet because of the rain. Taeyong’s trying to hide his boots under his chair, but then someone else can see them, and he decides to work with the lesser evil of two.

And bends his knees to hide timberlands under the chair.

Johnny raises an eyebrow.

“So.” Taeyong gulps.

“I’m so, so sorry”, he whispers, hiding his eyes with the boots. “I’m so sorry about yesterday…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about”, Johnny shakes his head slowly. “I was pretty much drunk myself.”

“Yes, but…”

“I am more interested why weren’t you answering my texts.” Johnny looks at Taeyong with a deep furrow, arms crossed in front of the chest. “I was worried.”

“About that... “, sigh. “I’m sorry, Johnny, I was so embarrassed.”

“Of what?”

“Of yesterday”, Taeyong huffs, turning away. His cheeks are bright red – kind of contracting to deep blue tone under his eyes. Hangover got him bad, but he somehow managed to go out and sketch in public place.

Johnny is about to say something when Taeyong suddenly gets up and grabs his stuff, almost turning table upside down on his way.

“Y-You know, I better go, I think I don’t feel so well and yet I have some other stuff to do at home so I’ll text you later… No-no-no-no, _you_. You better text me if you still want to see me or talk to me or know me, whatever, my is in your hands”, Taeyong snaps out before disappearing from coffee shop.

Without saying goodbye – and paying.

Few minutes later Johnny is at the counter, paying for his and Taeyong’s coffee. And it’s Yukhei who asks him about that awkward scene that was witnessed by all coffee shop guests.

“What happened between you two?”, Yukhei nods at the table Johnny just left. “A fight?”

“Nope. Way better”, Johnny smiles, hiding his card into wallet.

“Aaaand? What he have done?”, Jungwoo’s voice – he appears somewhere on the left with a handful of orders placed all over his arms. And he still pays attention to the gossips – the sign of true professional.

“He”, Johnny can’t tell what makes him smile like he’s dumb and in love – perhaps that he is dumb and in love. “He kissed me.”

It was a very unskillful, unconfident kiss, but it was so honest and sincere – Johnny can still feel it ( _or maybe he’s just being dramatic_ ), he still can see Taeyong coming into his space and cupping Johnny’s face with his small hands.

And he can hear himself, whispering after that: “It was your first kiss in a while, huh?”

 _Huh, my ass_ , Johnny rolls his eyes, while Yukhei and Jungwoo, exchanging a smile, are back to their business. Now Johnny can understand why Taeyong acts like this. Of course he would, of course he overthinked because it’s just who Taeyong is.

Of course he would think Johnny made fun of him for Leechayapornknul _kissing someone in a while_. What if it was first actual kiss for Taeyong? In his, what was it, twenty three?

“Johnny Seo, what a _dumbass_ you are.” Johnny flies out of coffee shop, looking around, calling Taeyong and not even noticing that it rains again. Cold, annoying rain immediately makes his skin cover with shivers, but Johnny doesn’t give himself any second to think about forgotten umbrella.

He runs to Taeyong’s bus stop, hoping that all the busses that works for him are running late.

There’s no one like Taeyong at the bus stop when Johnny makes it there. He looks around, phone still trying to reach Taeyong, but there’s no answer. Is he mad or just so discouraged that he won’t answer the phone? 

Johnny’s hair are wet as well as his coat, hands holding a phone, chelsea boots that got into a dirty puddle. He sighs, listening to long beeps, when someone covers him with the umbrella.

Van Gogh's painting – that one with cafe at night, - is printed on it.

“What are you doing here?” As Johnny turn around to see Taeyong, his fear fades and smile makes its way on Johnny’s face. He looks at Taeyong, who’s freezing and grinds his teeth, and shakes head.

“Was trying to run after you”, he says, watching how Taeyong’s eyes become bigger. “But you here.”

“I was buying some sweets. For mom”, there’s a pocket in Taeyong’s hand, and he shows it off.

“Looks tasty.”

“It’s good”, Taeyong nods. “Why were you running?”

“To find you and tell something important.” Taeyong furrows a bit and nods missing his bus that he actually can’t even ses because of Johnny’s broad shoulders. “I was an ass. You don’t need to have huge experience in kissing, and… That was really cute and pure, and you were so honest and I just wanted to say it’s cute, but it sounded mean, and…”

There’s a pause in which Taeyong looks up at Johnny the moment the other man tried to find Taeyong’s eyes.

“We can kiss again. Whenever you’re ready. Because I like it and I know that you were more focused on art than on kissing experience and it’s totally fine.”

Taeyong nods, perplexed, and slowly gets on his tiptoes – just to place small, gentle kiss on Johnny’s cheek.

“Thank you, Johnny. That means the world.”

And Taeyong not just says it – he means it. As well as the curses he sends to bus’ driver when said bus leaves without Taeyong.

* * *

“Don’t tell me you’ve been lying me all those years.” Ten’s scoff forces Taeyong make a distance between his ear and the phone. “I remember you having dates! And kisses! What happened?!”

“Well”, Taeyong makes turns around. He’s walking at the park and it’s his second round on the path by the lake. “I… glossed over? I mean, Ten, you were dating what, five guys since we know each other? And we met on tumblr six years ago. And all I got all this year is stinky creeps who wants a fucking family. In this economy!”

“I told you million times, Taeyong – your time will come, your love will find you when it’s a right time!”, Ten’s voice is annoyed, but not that much – that means he’s doesn’t really angry.

“Ten, you won’t understand this.” Taeyong huffs. “Whatever you say, it won’t work for me like and won’t calm me down when everyone, everyone fall in love and are all happy and gross around me. Think about it, Ten. You were spilling me all the details about your exes and I was alone.”

There’s silence on the other side, but Taeyong lets himself talk.

“I was there when you were crying over how much you miss Jaehyun and I was at one of your dates when you both were so horrifically cute, and I was just looking everywhere but you because I wanted to do the same. I can’t even remember last time I was hugging someone.”

“Taeyong”, Ten’s voice is silent as he tries to reach his friend. “I remember we talked about it… And I’m sorry I made you go through it even after we had a serious talk.” A pause. “But still – lying? If you wanted to kiss so desperately you might just ask me when you were here!”

Taeyong rolls his eyes, finally turning to his way home. Maybe, Ten is right and it was dumb of him to lie about something like this, but it’s just how Taeyong hoped to look less pathetic in his eyes – and how he felt even more pathetic, actually.

He never was a center of everyone’s attention no matter how strikingly beautiful he was. People who Taeyong liked never approached him and most of the the time they already had someone. Like, all the time. Even the guy Taeyong met on forum RPG when he was fourteen.

And Taeyong wasn't a bitch to steal someone.

So this is why he was so uncomfortable around his friends who had relationships: for a few months, like Ten, or for years, like Yuta now. Especially with Ten, who was the only friend Taeyong could tell absolutely everything.

And talking about how lonely Taeyong felt after Ten's hours and hours of cooing over his boyfriends was unbearable. And that's when he came up with a lie. As you remember, the wind is his head is never fair, and the idea of actually creating a legend about Taeyong having a dates and even some problem with his dates seemed pretty much appealing. Ten is in other country, he wouldn't know, especially if Taeyong will make it clear as day that he hates posting selcas with his boyfriends.

And Ten believed. And Taeyong lied. And even if he felt even more pathetic, it helped to feel less pathetic in Ten's eyes (for the note: Ten never considered him that way). It was boosting up Taeyong's confidence until he felt like he can't pretend anymore, and "dumped" his last imaginary boyfriend.

And now when Taeyong met consequences of lying to his best friend, he feels pathetic again. It took him a minute to find some far-fetched reason to hung up and run home, just to find new message from Johnny.

Few hours later they're talking about way more personal stuff than they used to: it started with Johnny's question about Taeyong's _uhhh love life_ experiences which ensued a lot of confessions and embarrassed laughs. And long self-reflection that was accumulating in Taeyong for the damn long time.

“You know, I just recently explored... That I'm not that bad – inside, outside”, Taeyong buries his head under blanket, like it will help him not to overthink as he keeps talking. “I just recently learned that people come in different shapes and colors, that we are not manufactured, that I'm not a bootleg or someone who made me had a real weird taste.”

There’s a little pause, and Taeyong can still hear Johnny through the silence. He takes a deep breath and goes on.

“The only thing that was screwing my mind is that... that everyone seems to have their perfect puzzle match. All of my friends out here found someone who looks just right to fill their life, and all the puzzles that approached me somehow were just a way to limit me. They surrounded me, took my space to grow… And it scared me away, eventually. And here I am, entirely lonely and losing my ability to create as much as I used to.”

There’s a long huff on the other side; Taeyong can hear Johnny sipping on his coffee again ( _you’ll get insomniac if you drink so much coffee_ and little embarrassed laugh in reply) and placing a cup on table.

“I think, it is not the puzzle piece you need”, Johnny says softly – his voice lulls Taeyong, and he decided to close his eyes just to feel how the sound of Johnny words, whatever they can be, envelopes him. “You need… Negative space? I know you’re familiar with this term.”

At this Taeyong nods, knowing fully that Johnny can’t see him.

“You need a space that will help you to form your crisp outline, not to force you into it a form that other puzzle piece has. Someone who can just... help you to learn your form, I guess. You will grow, and this space will grow with you - and it will fit you perfectly, just like a puzzle.” 

As Johnny keeps speaking, Taeyong falls asleep slowly – and last words got him when he already was only a little able to process what he himself is saying.

“And you?”, Taeyong’s slow, drowsy, and Johnny can hear it – and he smiles, heeding to his silent voice. “What are you? A puzzle piece or negative space?”

At this, Johnny freezes, looking at the book on his lap; his senses are sharp but his senses are mess, and when he hears Taeyong’s silent sniffling, his head makes a spin.

It wouldn’t sound like a confession, right?

“I want to be your negative space”, whispering, Johnny closes his eyes. “Watch you getting shape and find my own with you.”

“Good”, Taeyong speaks in his sleep. “Because I want you to be my negative space. And be a negative space for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they are so awkward but that's just johnyong being their own speacial selves  
> hopefully none of them would fuck things up hehehe
> 
> find me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/touchtofeel)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/foxnlis)


	6. Heartbreak Generation

What a good story without a heartbreak? A perfect one,you might say, but we’re here to be realistic – even if it’s really a good story with happy ending (I don’t feel guilty for that spoiler).

And while Taeyong is sleeping with his heart cracking and aching for the feelings he’s not used to, Johnny can’t sleep because of pain of another kind. His heart, broken while back, fixed in haste with washi tapes and school glue, beats so slow, so heavy, and his mind full of thoughts, darker than the night behind his windows.

Johnny looks at the ceiling of his room as if he’s trying to find an answer on his questions – but the ceiling is silent and doesn’t look like a good person to talk to. It’s pretty obvious, though, but for Johnny, who stands at the dawn of his new life, any help is needed.

His heart was broken not by his past lovers but by his parents. They have relationships that kids this days will call _goals_ : constant love and support, a lot of good memories. Johnny got best traits from his parents and learned from them a lot, and he still can remember stargazing with his mother when his dad was late from work. Nothing was perfect, and his parents needed some time to accept that their son dated a boy (twice) and girl (once). But good thing that they were more concerned about the fact that Johnny was scared to tell about it and everything came up when Johnny heard his father making a very bad joke about gays.

After a really long conversation and long period of adaptation, his parents got used to this – and now they even want to meet Taeyong. Who, by the way, not even Johnny’s boyfriend. Yet.

But the reason why Johnny doesn’t want them to meet any time soon (or any time later) is that Johnny’s parents has strong opinions over such thing as _making art for living_. At this point you can use little air quotes and very tired expression.

Johnny was, like, ten when he got his first film camera and started taking photos of everything everywhere. His mom was glad that Johnny finally got a hobby aside book reading obsession and playing Sega, but was frustrated by the amount of film he used. It was first wake up call.

School made Johnny go through many things, and, when he met new friends in the middle school, he forgot about his camera and became an emo. This whole period is a blur zone on Johnny’s mind map but he’s still sure that emo is not a phase, it’s a state of mind – like that one Jay-Z song.

He only found his old, dusty camera, when it was a time to move out. The Seo family decided to throw away or sell half of their possessions, and Johnny was about to place a box in dad’s car when something stopped him. So Johnny, hands shaking, opened a box and started sorting things inside: his old diary (that needs to be burned), bracelets his friend made for him (she had hands of gold), some issues of Edge magazine that dad’s friend of London sent him as Christmas presents, and – a big envelope with photos and even bigger box with undeveloped films.

He took the whole box to the new home of Seo family – and developed all the films that he forgot before. He was going through all the photos he found and felt like it was that one thing he was missing this whole time: he had friends, he had favorite things to do, but he forgot about one important thing – that something that his friends are all trying to find. The thing they want to do their whole life.

In _Johnny’s concept of happiness_ adults do things they are happy to do. They work for things that bring them joy – as well as money. Which is a kind of idealistic concept, and Johnny, being an educated and wise young man, knew that his concept is quite too much in the capitalist society.

But as well as he clearly knew about it, his intention to live a happy live while making money with photography and loving someone who understands him perfectly. Someone, who is head over heels in the thing they do.

When Johnny was about to graduate from school, his parents asked him who he wants to be. The answer was “photographer”, at which his parents exchanged a look that Johnny, who knew them for his whole life, saw only thrice.

It was disappointment. That feeling that fills you to the top when you make plans for a long, long time, but the person who responsible for the success of your plans has other ideas. Johnny’s parents wanted him to study business: in any way possible. They wanted him to make a lot of money and never live a life they were living before they made it big enough and allow themselves a house, a car, a child.

They wanted only good, Johnny knew, but his idealistic, foolish child he carried (and still carries) in his chest broke up in tears, feeling absolutely _lonely_. His heart ached, it was so hard to breath, so painful to know how little faith his parents have in him. 

“You think you will earn money with photography? Come on, son, everyone has a camera on their phones right now, you can point, shoot and add filter – and your pics already on magazine covers or someone’s lockscreens. Try something more real. Something that will never lose its value.”

Those words were ringing in Johnny’s ears when he got his exams results, when he was taking photos of his friend when he enrolled in music school. Those words came up in his mind when Johnny was standing on the doorsteps of the university with _world economy_ book in his hands and new mirrorless camera in his bag.

Four years later he’s photographer in the studio, making professional pictures for documents or civil family photos, retouch and some photoshop work. His parents always ask him if he already made it big, and there’s still a disappointment in their voices mixed with a big concern.

Will he be alright?

And will Johnny, who only half-assed made his hobby into work, help Taeyong with his problems? 

Will he be a proper negative space for him? Because as much as Johnny believes (and works) in his own success, it’s still so far from what he want – and reassuring Taeyong that he will _make it big_ soon sounds fake even for Johnny himself.

But nothing will compare with the smile Taeyong gives Johnny when he talks about drawing, and nothing makes Taeyong so hyped up when Johnny talks about photography.

Nothing can be more sexy than a person who talks about stuff they are passionate about, and now Johnny can really tell why there were so little people in his life who inspired him to move on.

And Taeyong, who finally found his negative space, can feel that he’s not alone on his road.

* * *

“Listen, John. I see your heart eyes and believe that in your head you and your boy already married and adopted two adorable rascals, but let me bring you down, in real world, for a minute?”

It’s a morning right after that long, deep internal monologue with a reminiscing on the side; Johnny’s moping around the studio, checking equipment in the hundredth time, looking through his work folder just to find the pics to edit and distract Johnny from his dark, malicious thoughts.

Taeil, another photographer in the studio, watching him from his spot almost under the ceiling where he’s trying to get curtains to the rails so it would be a good background for photoshoot. Johnny’s sighs and pathetic look are annoying, but Taeil is not a person who will tell about it straight away.

So at first he asked what’s up and now, when Johnny spilled his big inner conflict, Taeil just wants so drop that little hammer on Johnny’s head – but Taeil, as reasonable adult he is, just takes another deep breath and tries to talk to Johnny about his problems.

“Well, not like it’s me who’s sitting up there, I’m just, like, tall.”

Taeil rolls his eyes, shrugging. “Anyway. You guys just started to get close and, from what you told me, I kinda feel that you made a progress here.” At that Johnny just nods, flipping the pencil between his fingers. “But for now you still do not owe him anythings as well as Taeyong doesn’t owe things to you. Don’t stress yourself with thoughts about future – actually, you might not have this future together at all.”

“That’s…”

Taeil raises his eyebrows. From up here he indeed sounds like the voice of reason, and Johnny is almost sure this impression is what Taeil wanted to achieve.

“That hurts, but you’re right, actually”, Johnny shrugs, making his way to the studio laptop. “I really kind of started wondering about how I’ll introduce him to my parents and what we’re going to do when he snaps and leaves that place where he’s working. I also thought where can we move, like, another county. He likes where it’s chilly in summer.”

Taeil nods with slight hesitation. “You’re really whipped.”

“More than a cream can ever be.”

“Ew.”

* * *

Few days later Johnny working in film developing laboratory (a bit too big word for that, just a corner their studio where Johnny is the only person to understand anything in film – Taeil’s all about point and shoot stuff) when it suddenly comes up in his mind.

It’s a month since they met and Halloween passed few days ago, and he absolutely forgot about it.

He can clearly remember how Taeyong was gushing over pictures his friend sent him from Japan where streets were celebrating Halloween since the middle of september. Taeyong was all soft and cute when he described his favorite festive things – pumpkins, candies, creepy cute things, how he wanted to cosplay either a creepiest ghost or something cute, like Jack Frost or Howl from _Moving Castle_. His eyes were glistening like the sky full of stars as he spoke about Halloween for almost an hour they spent together between work and rushing home, and Johnny never waited for Halloween like this year, but soon something went on his way – work, of course, – and he absolutely forgot about any festive activity he might do with Taeyong.

He said that he and his colleagues going to have something like Halloween party merged with someone’s birthday, so Taeyong’s probably really busy now – it’s almost end of the working day so, Johnny can guess, they’re doing all the preparations needed.

He wants to text him something – like a small proposition to make their own little party later this weekend, with _Nightmare Before Christmas, Corpse Bride_ and other pretty much basic, but still very loved animations, candies, cake and mulled wine, but he hesitates – he’s already late and Taeyong might have his own plans on the weekend.

Johnny mopes around until six in the evening or such when he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. It’s Taeyong, which is stange – at least for Johnny, who honestly believed he’s going to have fun with his colleagues. Well, not like calling Johnny doesn’t mean not to have fun, but he just have this feeling in his guts that settler there the moment Johnny saw Taeyong’s name on the screen.

“Hey”, Johnny answer is a bit late and his voice cracked; he caughs, leaving studio to take a breath of cold air. “How’s the party?”

He hears Taeyong sigh. “Johnny?”

And his voice is nothing close to what Taeyong sound when he’s having at least a bit of fun.

“Can you take me home? Please.”

 

Twenty minutes later Johnny takes the stairs to the second floor of new office building where Taeyong works. The sounds of the party grow as he getting closer but he doesn’t need to go further – Taeyong is standing in the hallway, all in black, with broad brim hat and long bloody cut faked in his throat. That was whole witchy look Johnny wasn’t expecting, but what was more warning is the look in Taeyong’s eyes – sad, almost scared.

Taeyong rushes to Johnny and hid himself in his hug, burying face in Johnny’s shoulder and pushing him back to the entryway. Right when someone’s head popped out of his office.

“Let’s go somewhere, please”, he whispers not looking at Johnny, but his voice is weak and it’s just enough to make Johnny feel weak and scared too. As he takes Taeyong’s hand and leads him out of the building, they’re silent.

“Should I get you a taxi home or…”

“Can we stay together? At least for a bit”, Taeyong asks, finally looking up at Johnny. “I don’t really want to go home.”

He sighs, punching a rock that was unlucky to get on his way.

“I wish we made some plans on this Halloween together, really. But it’s solely my fault, to be honest…”

"What happened?" Johnny asks as they walk away from the building where all the fun keep going. Taeyong, under his gaze, shrugs, not knowing what actually to tell.

"I don't know", he whispers, sniffling. "There's just a person I really hate. And he kept pressing me with his... attention? It made uncomfortable, and I guess... I guess I panicked and called you. Because with you I feel safe, that's it."

Taeyong's shy smile made Johnny feel like he's drowning, so he tried to find his hand and grab it, intervening their hands – so tightly yet gently. At this Taeyong only smiles and leans closer, bumping their shoulders together.

"I remembered that you're usually done with work near six, so I called..."

"You were right, I just finished. And we still can make this day better." Mischievous grin on Johnny's lips shines brightly, and it takes Taeyong only a second to finally nod and agree to everything they might do tonight.

He feels safe and happy, and that only makes this Halloween million times better than all of the, before.

 

Taeyong's most happy Halloween happened when Taeyong was thirteen. He stuck at home with cold, with books his albums. He logged in in the chat he had with some of his internet friends, hoping that he wasn't the only one who's lonely and sad, and he wasn't. There was someone he wasn't acquainted yet, so Taeyong talked to that boy for few hours straight. He forgot about books and drawing he wanted to finish, he forgot about cold and rising fever.

Taeyong was just so happy to find someone with exactly same interests and mindset that he forgot how sad he was. And the moment he looked up from the screen to stretch and take something to eat he saw a snow falling behind his window – big fluffy snowflakes started to fall from the sky, still lighten up with the sunset.

It was beautiful, and Taeyong felt his chest so full of warmth that he might cry with it, and his tears might be the same color as the sky at edge of the horizon.

It wasn't lasting long, though, and this day almost faded from Taeyong's memory, but now, when he's walking under overcasted sky hand by hand with Johnny he suddenly feels the same way as that day ten years ago. He can't tell how long it will be – few months, a year, or longer, but what he's sure about is that he's happy in that moment.

"Let's make this Halloween the happiest?" Taeyons asks, looking Johnny in the eyes. "We can buy those candies and jellos in the shape of skulls and worms, something really-really red and sweet and pretend that it's a blood and also play all the movies we discussed that day when we were talking about festives!"

Taeyong blinks, realizing suddenly. "Oh. But we can't stay at mine's because it's an utter mess and you're not _so_ in love with me to not be shocked of the state of my shelter."

Johnny scoffs. "You're so sure I'm in love with you that I can't even object. But, to our luck, I live alone and also wasn't much at home to make a mess of it so we can hang out at mine's."

"Oh", Taeyong blicks yet again and his face lights up when something comes to his ming. "You said you have perfect place to watch movies!"

"Yup, and we have a moll with candies you want just one block away. Let's go?"

* * *

Taeyong can’t actually remember what happened with that boy Taeyong met on Halloween. And for Taeyong the end of their _teenage first love_ wasn’t a heartbreak – just sad experience.

His heart broke later, when he already was in the university and flirted with a guy who resembled someone from Taeyong’s past. Someone who’s long ago gone from his life and memory, someone you won’t meet on streets of the big city even though they still live here – just a ghost.

Taeyong felt uneasy and strange on his way home, hands full of flowers the guy he flirted with gave him; he was thinking so hard that his head hurted, but nothing came up in mind. He tried to look for a sign, for something that will trigger his memory, burst the bubble of deja vu – and he found it.

A boy with a guitar desperately looking for someone to ask for a cigarette and be young enough not to judge him for that. Guitar, leather pants, holy shit, right.

This is when Taeyong’s heart, that already had deep rift, started cracking and bleeding all over again.

In his past was another person he admired – someone who he, only fifteen that time, loved platonically but never understood how his feelings worked. He was few years older, played in a band and was just everything Taeyong needed in a person – they talked for hours and hours, about everything that fifteen year olds rarely talk – philosophy, world’s culture, books for adults (Taeyong skipped whole young adult section and started reading and rereading Ryu Murakami and now, with his mind as pure as spring water, he can tell that he buried that dark kid Taeyong after he finished _Almost transparent blue_ ), music that no one listens and sex in only theoretical aspects. Taeyong was fifteen and he was curious – and his friend (at that moment) was philosophy student.

Taeyong never thought about loving him until he felt longing for that almost forgotten feeling – wish to listen him talking forever and talk to him himself.

 

It felt like eternity until Taeyong finally found person he can’t stop listening to. It’s half past midnight and they’re in Johnny’s room, drinking cherry juice and eating pizza they got after buying all those sweets and feeling hungry in that sweet smell. They sit on the fluffy ashy brown carpet, pizza and juice between them, Johnny elaborating on the role of fairy tales in the life or adult using Taeyong’s addiction to decadence literature he experienced in young age as example, and Taeyong can’t agree more.

 _Nightmare before Christmas_ paused on Johnny’s laptop, fairy lights placed around them; no music, just Johnny’s soft voice, Taeyong’s silent laughs or him continuing Johnny’s idea – they follow each other like they share minds, and that what Taeyong dreamed about since he understood he was just so in love with his senior. And now he’s in love with Johnny and there’s no feeling better.

Soon they finish pizza and Taeyong craves for something hot and sweet. Johnny invites him to the kitchen, where small coffee machine placed.

“Can’t promise cappuccino, though, I suck in steaming milk.”

“I can work it. Or you can make me _café au lait_ and we’re even”, Taeyong smiles, his side pressed to Johnny’s slightly as they stand near the kitchen counter.

“First time hear about that but, I guess, it’s just hot coffee with hot milk. Will be done in a minute.”

As Johnny makes coffee for Taeyong, the latter stares at him – just to learn his features, see something he couldn’t notice before: small mole on his cheek, closer to lips, only one double eyelid, that peaceful, nice smile on his lips and eyes focused on what he’s doing.

Taeyong moves by the instinct – and, standing behind Johnny, he lifts himself on the tiptoes, placing his hands on Johnny’s shoulder and breathing in his nape.

“Trick or treat?”, he asks in a silent whisper, and waits a second for Johnny to process.

“Sounds creepy”, Johnny smiles, placing coffee cup on the counter carefully. “But I have a feeling that whatever I choose, I’ll win.”

Taeyong shrugs slightly, his lips touching Johnny’s nape slightly. It takes another second for Johnny to turn to him face to face and lean closer for a kiss – just press of lips, gentle touch, little smile before the kiss deepens and Johnny’s hands find their way on Taeyong’s waist.

“That was a treat”, Taeyong whispers in Johnny’s lips as they pull away just to let each other breath. “But I still want my coffee before it’s cold.”

“And that, I assume, was a trick”, at Johnny’s sad moan Taeyong only smiles and extracts himself from his hands to take his coffee and take a place near the table.

Taeyong still feels the thrill of the kiss and sweet aftertaste of fear that filled him when Taeyong was still behind Johnny’s back with that silly but, thank god, successful idea.

Creepy sweets – check. Pizza – check. Favorite animations – check. Favorite person – check too.

What a beautiful Halloween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one got me longer than it should, but preparations for inktober needed some sacrifices -_-  
> anyway, hope you liked that chapter~ no hearts going to break any time soon, so enjoy this ride of falling in love and adulting hohohoh
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/touchtofeel)   
>  [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/foxnlis)


	7. Sleepwalking & Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please, please, please, see the end notes! thanks uwu

Next morning Taeyong finds himself in Johnny's bed, with Johnny still sleeping by his right, overcasted sky behind the window and missed call from his mom, who, despite knowing that he's with, possibly, his boyfriend is still worried and tried to ask when he'll come home.

Taeyong crawls out of bed, still feeling Johnny's hand on his waist as if it was on him for the whole night and almost grew in, calls mother (no, we just slept together, I mean, on the same bed, no mom, he's a gentleman, no mom, I'll come back later, maybe not even today, why are you so happy, what do you mean "finally got laid"?!) and sneaks to the kitchen to have a glass of water. As he looks around, he finds some cute things he haven't noticed yesterday: collection of different candles, some figurines, a lot of CDs and vinyls even at the kitchen, a lot of browns, beiges and reds, some cozy kitchen instruments (this is how Johnny will call them later, and how Taeyong will call them for the rest of his life), cup with yesterday's coffee and whole lot of different cookies.

He smiles softly, dragging a chair closer to kitchen's window; he feels familiar itch of fingers – he wanted to draw this kitchen so bad, and yet he doesn't even have a proper sketchbook for this here. What a shame.

"Well, it's not my last time here", Taeyong nods to himself. "Probably."

Yet he managed to find a little notebook with lined pages and small pencil on the low fridge – vintage small fridge in pastel green color, a whole dream, – and sat back on his spot, eyeing the kitchen with absolutely lost eyes. Lost not because he doesn't know where to start drawing, but because he's already lost in his thoughts and small, silly dreams.

A he's sketching, fast, messy movements of pencil leaving lines on the paper, Johnny wakes up slowly and gets up, looking around, trying to find Taeyong – and almost thinking that he wasn't real and whole last night was just a dream, a cruel one, but still the sweetest dream he ever had. 

He slides from the bed, sheets still smelling like Taeyong, the perfume that Taeyong finds very unisex and even more feminine, the perfume that makes Johnny inhale with his whole chest and stomach just to enjoy this scent to the fullest. It's so silent at home, and Johnny almost believes that it was really a dream. 

But then he hears small sniff and little curses under breath, and smiles, unable to hide his happiness from his own reflection in the mirror. When Johnny reached the kitchen, there's Taeyong, scribbling something in Johnny's notebook that he kept to write down some ideas – and it makes his heart ache in a best way possible. 

"Hey", Johnny calls him, and Taeyong jerks a bit, startled, and then smiles, palm covering small page of the notebook. 

"Good morning. I woke you up?" 

"Yeah, I kinda felt cold when you left so I woke up soon", Johnny smiles, walking closer. "Drawing?" 

"Yeah, little sketch... Nothing in — " 

Johnny took the notebook from Taeyong's hands before he even managed to say a thing. "Oh, it's my kitchen. And that's me and you, right?" 

Johnny pointed at two stick figures, standing as one hugs another from behind and tasted something from the spoon another holds. Taeyong blushes heavily. 

"There's still a lot to draw, give it back." 

Johnny laughs, handling the notebook to Taeyong and pressing the button of the kettle.That's when he remembered something. 

Taeyong’s sketchbook, that one that he left in the bus and Johnny then found, is still in Johnny's drawer, between all the books he bought lately. And now Johnny's not sure if he should give it back or keep it until some nostalgic moment. Or until Taeyong remembers about it. 

He freezes for a long moment, and Taeyong looks at him in confusion, fingers spinning pencil so easily as if he was doing this for a long time and trained this skill to perfection. Well, he did, indeed, and it’s a mechanical habit of him whenever he’s searching for an idea or waits for something, and now, as Johnny’s phasing out, Taeyong’s fingers and the pencil in them is Johnny’s focus of attention. 

He snaps out of his daze the moment the pencil drops on the kitchen floor. 

“Oh, should we like, have a breakfast?..” 

“You were kinda pensive just now”, Taeyons muses, small smile touching corners of his lips. “What were you thinking about?” 

It’s a straightforward question, and Johnny smiles softly – he wants to keep this sketchbook a bit. As if it’s some fairy clothes. 

“I thought that we can go to have a breakfast in out place. Just right time for a brunch, isn’t it?” 

And so they did. After taking a shower, one after another, Johnny’s looking for a change of clothes for Taeyong, who’s trying to set ip his messy hair in some right manner. Johnny doesn’t need any setting up – his hair, flawless, flow and shine as he brushed a hand through them, and Taeyong, mesmerized, quickly finds a defense in eye rolls, which makes Johnny pout and Taeyong’s heart sink. 

Somehow they almost match. Taeyong’s wearing one of Johnny’s favorite flannel shirts over simple t-shirt and Johnny’s wearing simple hoodie with checkered slacks, and they take a place in a corner of the coffee shop, still sleepy customers and mildly energetic baristas swaying here and there, while the city, morning-of-the-weekend city, still runs somewhere. 

They take waffles with chicken and Cesar dressing, drink coffee and eat choco chip cookies, not talking and just smiling at each other here and there. When their brunch is finished, Johnny is the first to ask. 

“What should we do today?” 

It feels strange. Weird. As if they were doing something together every day. As if they it’s their holy tradition and it’s unbreakable – to have waffles, coffee, to do something else, whatever Taeyong is about to suggest. It feels weird, Taeyong thinks, mirage still thick and sticky in his eyes, Johnny’s smiled blurred in Taeyong’s unfocused sight. He takes a breath and thinks as hard as he could to finally give Johnny an answer. 

“Let’s go to the bookstore?” 

* * * 

“Brilliant.” Yuta’s voice is too sarcastic in Taeyong’s head, as day later the latter finally speaks his soul to a friend. “Marvelous. You had a bookstore date, walking date and two coffee shop days in one day.” 

“What’s wrong with it, we just spent two days together and were like… absolutely happy?” Taeyong really can’t understand Yuta’s tone and even the half of their life spent together can’t actually help it. “What we gotta do, have sex right away we established we’re liking each other?” 

“Well, that might help you open up the bad bitch you’re hiding, but I guess you’re so romantically into each other that it can’t be helped right now.” 

“Why are you roasting me…” 

“So, you spent a Halloween together, now, as all the _aesthetic_ couples, you’re going to get into Christmas and New Year mode?” 

“N-nope, we haven’t thought this far, you know, the Halloween was just so spontaneous…” 

There’s something in Yuta’s _hmmm_ thay make Taeyong nervous, but doesn’t asks, just bites his lips, looking away in the window, where the snow – not the first one, so there’s nothing fascinating – especially knowing it will just melt and make soil around Taeyong’s house into goo of dirt and decaying leaves. 

This one unpretty thing of midseason, and it’s when their relationships should develop – what a pity. 

“So we’re having a party on Christmas”, Yuta informs with his usual enterprising tone, absolutely sure that his suggestion will win no matter how in love with Johnny Taeyong is. “You’re absolutely free to come over, no presents needed. I’ll be glad to introduce you to some of Win’s friends, I’m sure you’ll like them.” 

That just spurs Taeyong’s anxiety over the holidays that are literally two months away. He’s not a big fan of Christmas – or, how Kun would say, he haven’t met the right person to care enough about to do all this fuss unironically. And Taeyong just can’t disagree. 

It wasn’t in his family tradition to actually celebrate Christmas or New Year or traditional Korean feasts, and it was just sad – because Taeyong always dreamed about a Christmas tree that will be half of his size bigger, carols, ice skating at the Christmas Eve, morning with big beautiful presents, cocoa and then – beautiful evening with mulled wine and ginger cookies. And with hugs. And Harry Potter movies. And sleeping together after. 

No parties, just being together as if the rest of the world suddenly doesn’t exist and maybe only one of them is real and other is just his imagination – and Taeyong won’t be surprised if it’s Johnny who’s true, who’s the god of his own universe with Taeyong being his fantasy, a bit twisted, screwed up. 

It’s all feels like a dream, honestly, and Taeyong couldn’t be scared more of waking up. 

What if after waking up he’ll disappear, leaving Johnny alone? 

What if after waking up he, Taeyong, will never see Johnny again because Johnny was only his imagination? 

He shakes his head, annoyed with his own solipsism. No, Taeyong could tell that Johnny is absolutely real and huge and has abnormal strength, because there’s a bruise on Taeyong’s shoulder after he made Johnny laugh and the latter’s hit almost made Taeyong fall from the bridge they were crossing. Johnny then apologized, of course, even though Taeyong was mostly laughing at his reaction. 

“I will never do this again”, Johnny promised, softly caressing Taeyong’s shoulder. 

“Never do what?” Taeyong arched an eyebrow, the kids ran near them with loud cheering. 

“Never hurt you”, Johnny smiled softly and pulled Taeyong in a hug, burying nose in his hair. 

“Yeah, I’m too frail for your bear paws.” 

“That’s what I’m saying.” 

Johnny then kissed Taeyong, and this kiss still burns on his lips, phantom touch still lingering to his lips. It’s so unnerving, he can’t focus on anything except this feeling, and barely stops himself from texting Johnny with something cheesy. But then his screen lits up with new message, and Taeyong almost runs back to answer him – and smiles, dumb and happy, finding a sticker with a sad bear and _the cheesiest_ “miss you” heart. 

**me**  
you’re whipped 

**johnny**  
can’t deny 

**johnny**  
are you? 

**me**  
you really think i’ll say it that easy >

**johnny**  
you’re such an ass sometimes 

**me**  
i don’t have any ass 

**johnny**  
you said it yourself 

Taeyong rolls his eyes and locks his phone, burying his face in a pillow. God. It’s almost too much. 

* * * 

And when Taeyong sees Johnny walking in the coffee shop in the morning (it's December, a month since they started dating – or how people call it these days) he's absolutely sure it is a dream and he's about to wake up. Johnny passes Taeyong without looking at him and makes an order and Taeyong, absolutely terrified, looks at his shaking hands. 

This is a dream. Yeah, just a dream, and he can just wake up and call Johnny (when he wakes up in the ass crack of the morning, even some street lights aren't working in that hour) and tell him that he misses him as hell and all… Taeyong makes an effort. He rubs his eyes, vigorously pinches himself with and even hits himself with a heavy Kinofolk issue, but all he gets is a weird glances and Johnny's arched eyebrows who's now standing near the counter and choosing a dessert. 

Taeyong smiles awkwardly and turns to his empty cup of coffee, compromised, scared to the point where he can't move a finger. 

He's ignoring him. No, not ignoring. He doesn't know him. 

Taeyong darts to his bag, his scarf falling on the floor while he's trying to find his phone and call Ten. What the point of calling Ten? There's none, but Taeyong feels like hearing his voice, so rational you want to hit him in the face, would help. At least he'll find a way to breath. 

His plan is ruined when he hears Johnny's voice so close it hurts. “Your scarf”, it's Johnny's hand in the corner of Taeyong's vision and it's his smell that stupefies him for long three seconds. “Are you alright? You seem like you're in distress.” 

“Distress, my ass”, Taeyong hisses, covering his head with hand. He might as well choke on his scarf if he wasn't absolutely sure this is just a dream, j u s t a d r e a m, and he'll wake up, eventually. 

Taeyong been through so much more than just that. 

“Y-Yeah”, he speaks, taking his scarf from Johnny, fingers brushing over his palm, cold and soft, electricity running through Taeyong's body but he feels this shock more like an earthquake – he retreats and hugs himself with a scarf as if he's cold. “Thank you. Sorry, I’m not feeling good.” 

“You need some help? At least taxi?” Taeyong can't see, but Johnny's eyes are all care and worry, and he takes a seat near Taeyong just to watch him collecting his stuff – books, notebooks, pens, erasers, pencils, watercolors, polaroids of him and Johnny from that first date, the bracelets they bought once for each other, not actually a pair but still, other polaroids Taeyong haven't seen in his real life, bunch of drawing he made, all his life… 

“I don't”, Taeyong can feel tears running down his face when he stuffs another couple of polaroids in his bag. “Just tell me it's all a dream, that I'll wake up and we'll go to work and then we'll meet and will do some cheesy stuff and everyone will hate us for PDA, just tell it…” 

But next moment he's not in the coffee shop and there's no his stuff and no Johnny, it's just Taeyong in front of his laptop, typing another boring text about credit cards, his coworker is whining and wishing for death, metaphorically and not really. His hands are heavy as if he was handcuffed and the cuffs’ weight is a whole universe. 

Nothing happens except the time running so fast that Taeyong can't keep a track of hours and minutes changing as he types. His thoughts are all about Johnny and it hurts so much, realizing how little they know each other – and how fast time flies. 

And how he'll probably will never know him for real if only… 

“Taeyong, will you wake up already? It's half past seven, you're going to be late for work.”

Taeyong opens his eyes – he can finally hear his morning alarm, postponed a lot of times while he was asleep, he can see his mom and the ceiling of his room. Mom looks annoyed. 

“So it was just a dream”, Taeyong whispers, hands cover his face. “Okay, I'm getting up. Can you please make me something to eat? I'll be terribly late.” 

And he's late, of course. Late and with a decent amount of work he must do here and now, and maybe stay an hour more because there's way more work than he could imagine. He can't even answer Johnny's texts properly because if he would, he'll end up opening his soul and ditching his work and being ridiculous which is not in his plans for any time soon. 

But he ends up like this, eventually, when Johnny shows up at the first floor of the building where Taeyong's working, with thermos of hot tea and camera on his neck. 

“You were working?” Taeyong asks, approaching him, with an urge to hug him so tight he couldn't breath. 

“Yes, and then I just walked around and took some pics of locations where I'd liked to take photos for my projects… How was your day? You weren't online much.” Johnny comments, while hugging him and kissing Taeyong's temple. “I know you were working but still…” 

“Oh, it's nothing, it's just…” 

December rolled in without snow or even cold, and as Taeyong and Johnny walked out on the street Taeyong felt warm winter smell, that one smell that lingers in the air kn mid-November mostly. The smell of winter slowly taking the reins. 

But as they take few steps, Taeyong notices white noise in the air – big snowflakes, so rare you can feel like you're hallucinating, falling from the sky, one of them stuck in Johnny's hair while he's sipping tea from thermos. 

“I just thought”, Taeyong swallows. “I just thought that I want to know you more. Even more than I already do.” 

Johnny smiles, his hand around Taeyong's shoulder, his weight soft and warm against smaller body as if there's no clothes on them at all. Taeyong finds his fingers and squeezes them – they are usually cold, and Taeyong just loves to think that his own hands feel scorching hot against Johnny's, – and looks up at him, waiting for the response. 

“In the long run, it's pretty possible for you to know me better than I do. But for now we're just learning each other, exploring. First reading. Theory. Then comes practice.” 

It's so simple that Taeyong completely forgot about that – about what he thought relationships are for him. Exploring, understanding, accepting – or not, but Taeyong actually really sure he'll accept Johnny in each and every form of him. 

Taeyong is looking at Johnny, who switched the topic already and now all round and about the spots he found to take pictures sometime. There's so much to learn about him, Taeyong thinks, fingers tightening on Johnny's. There's so many amazing explorations: how he will act when Taeyong give him a present? what will he be like when he's sick? what he will do if Taeyong himself fall sick? what is his tradition to wake up in the morning (which Taeyong pretty much learned already, but he's sure it wasn't all)? how Johnny will act when he'll meet Taeyong's parents? and what if they end up live together? how will he bear with Taeyong spending his evening with pencils and watercolors? does he picking his nose when no one sees? and what his pet peeves? 

It thrills Taeyong, even things that he himself can consider as gross, and while he thinks about this, Johnny can't even hear the hum of agreement from him – so he looks at Taeyong, who's staring at Johnny with _so many things_ in his eyes. 

“Taeyong?” Johnny calls out, and Taeyong snaps out of his freeze, arching eyebrows in confusion. 

“Y-Yes?” 

“You alright?” 

“Uh, yes”, Taeyong's eyes darting here and there while he's trying to recover from all his thought. “I just thought… What your plans for Christmas? And, like, for New Year?” 

Johnny tilted his head. “I guess I have a meal with parents for Christmas. It's a tradition.” He smiles softly. “And you?” 

Taeyong shrugged a bit nervously. “I guess, same. Yeah, same. Not a tradition just… Wanna take some coffee and walk to the park? It’s beautiful in this hour.” 

Johnny just nods, smile tinting his lips, and holds Taeyong’s hand tightly. They take coffee and spend few hours just walking in the park under dim street lights, between lonely people, friend squads, couples and families, and Taeyong looks around while Johnny tells him a story from his childhood – how he loved to take long rides with his parents just to travel for a couple of days, to visit another town. It’s when Johnny about to ask Taeyong something – by the furrow of his brows you could say it was something important, but he immediately closed his mouth when Taeyong spoke. 

“You know”, he starts, when they passed a girl, taking a picture of herself – no friends found around. “Every time I was here alone or with friends I felt so lonely… As if no one, even my friends, can see me. I knew it was dumb because who else they’re talking to… But still. I thought that having someone like you by my side will make me a proper person. A whole.” 

_Johnny snorts. “And how was it? Are you a whole person now?”_

“Well, I am. And always was.” Taeyong smirks. “And I hope that girl will find out it too, if she’s feeling like I was. Or better - I hope she doesn’t feel like this at all.” 

And Taeyong squeezed Johnny’s hand, hiding it in a pocket of his parka. “I hope you’re whole too. With me or without. We don’t need to he a manic pixie dream boys to each other. That trope is also kinda.. gross, though.” 

“Oh, I know”. Johnny rolls his eyes. 

And so they go – one topic changing another, one joke leading to another joke, hand in hand, memory of what Johnny wanted to say or ask gone long ago. 

* * *

One morning Johnny wakes up in a strange mood. 

He had no dreams (or he doesn’t remember any), but everything around him feels like dream, and his own actions look unreal, strange, like animation, slowed down and distorted. It is not an unpleasant feeling, he could say, but it’s strange and it feels like a hangover – when he haven’t had a drink for a really long time. 

Probably since that day when he and Taeyong were at the bar, still back in October. 

Johnny smiles, thinking about that day and making his first cup of coffee. He can clearly remember Taeyong – blush on his cheeks, his hot body pressed against Johnny’s, his voice, soft and cute, and even cuter when he’s tipsy. His sad eyes – he was feeling down. And his kiss, their unofficially first and drunk. Still meaningful, though; no matter how honest Taeyong was that day, this touch felt even more sincere than any of his words. 

Here I need to tell that no matter how considerate and mindful Johnny’s personality was, he was kind of shy to peek into one’s mind. It is a private space, a zone you can’t trespass if you don’t want to ruin either your relationships with a person or a person themselves. 

Taeyong, with all his strength and will, looked to easy to ruin; you just need to press right buttons – and the world kept doing it continuously. But that Johnny only learned later – on a Halloween, for example, and through his whole life in the future. And even if the world were pushing Taeyong’s buttons, Johnny couldn’t really tell how much of those you need to push to break Taeyong down. 

It’s seven in the morning, the sky is rich royal blue color, and Taeyong already woke up – and even sent Johnny a picture of the sample with that royal blue, his small hand all in paint. 

They agreed to meet at other place than usual – a coffee shop with big windows on the sunny side, bar stools and the heater in the corner. Taeyong said he was there with Kun once and thought that it would be great just sit there and draw. And so they decided to go out: Taeyong with his sketchbook, pencil case and watercolors, Johnny – with a laptop to edit the pics he took and a book if they stay there for a while. 

Taeyong was so excited when they discussed that date: they were walking to the bus stop and Taeyong were swinging their hands, fingers intervened, chirping about how long he dreamed about it – at least just try to sit somewhere cozy, draw in silence with someone. And Johnny couldn’t do anything but to try, even though he was a bit sceptical – he and his chatty ass just can’t be silent sometimes. 

In eight he’s already on the street, hiding his nose, immediately red on the cold air, in a scarf, a book and the laptop in his backpack, Taeyong’s voice message in earphones. He’s talking about how he was drawing almost all night and now not sleepy at all; how he painted sky that royal blue color and used opaque white watercolor to make a splash of stars and stained his whole table and all the things on it with white. Taeyong chuckles in the earphones, and Johnny just can’t wait to see him and hear him real – his voice not as husky as it was when he just woke up, but his hair, Johnny can bet, are a whole mess. 

It is cold and sunny morning and royal blue skies slowly became _horizon blue_ , the color from Taeyong’s watercolor palette that Johnny only saw once and only on the photo. But the color looked like a scoop of morning sky in a plastic section, and Johnny couldn’t forget it – he even noted somewhere that he wants to take a picture with that exact color. 

It looked like Taeyong’s vision of the world somehow clinged on Johnny too; the way he can look up and point on dark willow branches, saying that it looks like black ink on cerulean, and the clouds are just the cotton attached there with a glue. How he can made up a whole horror story from a sound that he heard alone at home and be scared of his own plot as if it’s real. Or how he can find magic in the simplest things: like when he bought an apple for an old homeless lady because she asked, and was absolutely sure that she’s a witch. 

“The good one”, he said back then, Johnny still feeling the eyes of shop owner on their backs, the old lady gone from a sight. “She said she doesn’t need money or more apples. Just one apple. The red one. Isn’t it, well, fairy tale-ish?” 

Johnny only snorted back then, but Taeyong wasn’t listening – he was already in a story he himself created in his mind right off the bat. 

Johnny stops himself few bus stops later, right in front of the coffee shop where they wanted to meet. Taeyong already there, sitting at the point she wanted, eyes in the sketchbook already. The sun illuminates his frame, the splash of reflected light on his cheek. 

Johnny goes through his pockets and searches in the backpack, but there’s not camera to be found, and he can only let out small growl, annoyed and disappointed, silenced few moments later. He can just save this moment in his head, can’t he? 

And so he did, looking at Taeyong until the moment he noticed and lifted his head up, small, happy smile on his face and eyes sleepy. 

“I ordered us coffee and sandwiches with salmon”, Taeyong informs, when Johnny takes a sit near him, still wrapped in a scarf and parka, and glares at him strangely. “Oh, and I have something for you. Let’s pick a frame later together?” 

Taeyong hides his face behind the piece of watercolor paper, a drawing of familiar place filled with such different sensations. Johnny takes few moments to realize, to process: two figures, one of them hugging another, _kitchen instruments_ flying around them in sparks and doing what they had to do – cooking the best breakfast ever. 

“You are the wizard”, Taeyong says, pointing at the person in front of the gas range. “And I don’t know who I am, but I’m kinda in love with a wizard and fascinated with his pancakes. The wizard probably used some kind of love potion, but I don’t think he needed it…” 

The strange feeling Johnny had when he just woke up comes back with every Taeyong’s word, and his chest fills with snowflakes as if they leak through the windows and he inhales them with every breath. 

It’s beautiful, Johnny wants to say, but his throat is so sore and dry, he can only gulp those snowflakes and lean closer to Taeyong, to hug him, tightly, sharing that strange, dizzy feeling. 

“I guess, it’s a thank you”, Taeyong’s aquiver whisper sounds so close to Johnny’s ears. 

“It is”, he echoes, smiling, squeezing his so not a silly tear will find a way. At that Taeyong just huffed, returning a tight hug, kissing Johnny’s temple, as if he’s a kid, happy to receive a present. 

It’s when it hits – when Johnny finally finds the words to explain the sensation he was partly afraid and partly liked. It’s an itch on the tip of his fingers, strange power in his voice so every phrase sounds like affirmation spelled under the moon. It’s a feeling of absolute willfulness than can make things fly and weather change. 

It’s magic, and Johnny holds its’ embodiment in his hands when barista comes with their sandwiches and coffee. 

It’s magic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! sorry for a long wait, i'm writing too many thing at work to write anything else, but i'm trying~  
> here's a little psa: this fic is going to be something like slice-of-life johnyong stories compilation, so i will update it only once in a while. don't worry, i will never forget about this story, i love it too much to just drop it lol
> 
> also there's a small easter egg for a fic that isn't even in the works so don't worry, no spoiler were given (or were)
> 
> see you in december - or somewhere at my social media where you can get updated on the fics state or me losing my mind.
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> where to find me:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/touchtofeel)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/foxnlis)


	8. Weight of the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THE NOTES THANK YOU
> 
> hello!  
> sorry for this "little" hiatus - a lot of happening (still as i write it) and i had too much on my mind and wasn't able to deal with anything more. can't promise i'll be out here much again, but oh well.
> 
> as i said before, good story - is a compilation of stories that happened to johnyoung on their adulting journey. and most of this is based on my own experience. and this messy chapter is my own experience as well - except i don't have a johnny.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: so this chapter is a bit heavy and might make you uncomfortable. it doesn't affect the plot in any case so you can skip it.
> 
> mentions of anxiety and serious sickness. but i don't want to put in the header since nothing like this was and will happen in future parts.

“For someone who claims himself socially awkward, you’re pretty socially skillful.”

Taeyong maneuvering through the crowd, saying _sorry_ here and _excuse me_ there, maroon beret decorated with few pins as well as mustard yellow jumper are bright so you'll never lose him. His scarf in Johnny’s hands, who is diligently following him, chuckling softly chirping and happy Taeyong looks right now.

It’s the beginning of December, Christmas themed art-festival, where a lot of artists gathered, their tabled full of art and original stuff – postcards, prints, posters, pins. A lot of pins, Taeyong bought almost ten already, and they only made it through the half of market. Johnny, loaded with his boyfriend’s (he still can’t believe he can call him that) scarf and his own camera and a bag with something for them to eat, follows him everywhere, greatly amused with the atmosphere around.

It’s super nosy, crowded and happy, and it smells like art supplies market (which they visited already, too) except there’s not much of brushes and paints being sold here. Taeyong could easily make a lot of friends here and now: once the first ice and fear of crowds were broken by cute girl with pointy ears, who were selling her corgi-inspired stuff, he started talking with everyone about absolutely anything, and he was adorable with his cheeks burning red of joy.

Johnny, in his case, was so happy to picture him like this – and also proud that Taeyong is out there, being bright and beaming and laughing so loud like he only do with Johnny. Amazing transformation.

“I don’t know what happened”, Taeyong speaks louder as they enter the crowd near some popular artist’s table. “But it feels even more like home to be here with you.”

Some of the art market visitors turn their head to look at the source of voice and the person who this speech was directed, and all they see is a whole new world: Johnny with his sweet, gentle smile, looking at Taeyong, who holds his hand as he's making his way closer to a table. Taeyong's ears under his maroon beret are hot and red, but he masks the embarrassment with purposeful frown.

Johnny could easily imagine Taeyong at the any table of this market, selling his merch and books – he's sure that one day, sometimes soon, Taeyong could easily release a book or two, he only needs support and time. And if he has all the support of absolutely everyone around him, time is still a question; Johnny feels absolutely powerless when Taeyong thinks about how he haven't had a moment to draw since a week before, but they met almost everyday and went out on dates. There's no Johnny's guilt at all though, but it still makes him sad and guilty – as if Taeyong's biggest fear came true and someone takes important things he loves from him.

They talk about it in resting area of the festival, when Taeyong and Johnny take out the food they prepared – it almost looks like a picnic but with crowd still buzzing and soft music streaming a bit too loud for resting area. There are sandwiches and thermos of hot tea with rosemary (Taeyong's latest obsession), new sketchbook on Taeyong's lap and pencil in his hand. Johnny with his camera ready any time possible near him, flipping pages of the book they bought here.

“I hope you'll have more time to draw in it,” Johnny utters, fast look on Taeyong's hesitating hands over the sketchbook page. “Maybe we should sacrifice a date or two.”

“What are you talking about?” soft snort follows. “I can't draw not because of our dates. If I had a bit more time during a day…” Taeyong lets out a sigh and smiles at Johnny with soft, little pink on his cheeks – another type of blush he only shows Johnny.

“Don't _ever_ think like that. I'm good, really. A little pause might only be the benefit – I think I should reconsider… everything.”

And oh, here I should say: little did they know how soon this reconsidering will hit Taeyong. It's always like that – to think about something from another point of view you need to survive another shipwreck of life, whatever it looks like. Taeyong's shipwreck is right about the corner.

They have a safe ride home and have a nice sleepover together – cook something simple together, eat it in front of the TV with some funny show on, take shower one by one and get ready to sleep. Taeyong is worn out, but this sensation is sweet and nice, and Johnny can't help but feel even happier looking at him – who abandoned usual “uninspired” sulkiness and keeps talking about how many things he's going to do. But there's a little annoying bug in the back of Johnny's head, and he can't realize what is it until the very next evening.

“Mom was doing some… diagnostics lately,” Taeyong starts; his voice is rust, dry twigs, none of the cheerful chirping Johnny heard just a day before. “It’s about her old disease.”

Johnny nods, even if Taeyong couldn't see.

“Yeah, I remember…”

“So it was few years ago, and now she checked it up and the doc said they ready to do a surgery,” Taeyong is trying to smile, be at least not as scared as he is, but Johnny can hear it clearly – in small shiver in his words. “It's about, you know… trepanation. They can't do it in another way.”

Johnny can hear Taeyong's sigh and looks away from the window. They talk a lot – about how the whole surgery is actually planned and it's final so his mom will be fine; about how he's scared of it and how he's scared to see his mom after the procedure – and how he's scared of hospitals at all. They said he'll be better with her there, and Taeyong understands it completely, but he's scared to the core, and Johnny can't help, but wishes he could be there.

“I can take a taxi to you.”

“No-no, stay at home, it's late already,” Taeyong's laugh is short. “We'll meet tomorrow anyway.”

“Yep, we will,” helpless smile. “Just don't stress yourself too much, okay? I know it seems impossible, but soon everything will be alright.”

“Correct. I'll text you in the morning. Good night?”

“Sweet dreams.”

But Taeyong's dreams are nothing close to be sweet, and Johnny can't sleep at all. The feeling, the bug he had since their way home from festival, is getting bigger and rattles even more. It's not about Taeyong's mother, thank god – let me reassure you, she'll be fine and finally regains her confidence and will start anew a lot of things in her life.

It’s about Taeyong and his damned coping mechanism, that doesn't let even Johnny through.

He’s convinced about it when they meet not on the next evening, but few days later. Taeyong beams a smile at Johnny even from another side of the street, dressed up as a Final Fantasy character – more of XV, of course, garments of other chapters are too extravagant even for Taeyong, – and runs to Johnny with complete determination.

Johnny can't even say anything before Taeyong kisses him, hand around Johnny’s neck, body so close that it's almost too much. “Sorry, I'm a bit late”, Taeyong breathes out, and Johnny could only shake his head. Taeyong had never done anything like this before, and even if it's actually feels great, something doesn't look right.

Taeyong's eyes are dark and red as if he was crying on his way there.

“It's okay,” Johnny mutters when Taeyong already leads him to the bar.

And after that nothing goes okay with Taeyong at all. He's always on the verge of tears but battles them as if they are his blood enemy, as if he cries at least once something _very bad_ will happen; as if the world is in his hands and he can't show how weak he actually is. No matter how much Johnny tries to talk to him it always ends with Taeyong smiling helplessly, hopelessly, his voice, soft and tired, asks him to stop – and talk about whatever.

And the scariest fact is: Johnny knows what Taeyong knows. Nothing bad can happen and everything will be alright. That's it. But the fear is engrossing and the future is dreadful with every day passing until moment X, and Taeyong, who always gained strength in Johnny's presence, was only scared of his optimism – and hope.

And just like this, he made a distance – and almost gone from Johnny's sight few days before Christmas.

Johnny understands, honestly; all Taeyong's thoughts are about that pitiful percentage of fail. He said it outright – even little care reminds him of how scared he is, and Johnny can't even act like he doesn't care – Taeyong took a big chunk of his heart, after all, and whatever belongs to Johnny’ heart he treasures. And just like this Johnny decided to take it. Even if it takes a couple of months.

“I'll wait.”

“Thank you, Johnny. And early Merry Christmas to you...”

At first it is an absolute silence. No social media updates, no drawings in his account. Then – first sketch in Taeyong's new sketchbook. A lot of practice doodles, changing every time he updates his profile. Then – silence again.

Johnny and his parents are running Christmas preparations in the meantime. Presents, neatly decorated, dinner menu – mr. Suh responsibility since mrs. Suh is adamant she's over communicated with the oven. They decide to go easy with Christmas interior – and mostly because Johnny’s voice on the phone seems lively as usual, but something's off, and his mom can feel it in her guts. But he still takes a day off to prepare everything beforehand – his parents are sure that little chores can sort out anyone's mind.

They ask him about his “friend”, tactfully not using “boy” – not because they're against Taeyong but because Johnny doesn't look like a millennial in his twenty finally having wholesome relationships. And Johnny tries to contact Taeyong – on 24th, in the morning, while Taeyong supposedly still on his way to work.

“Won't you go out somewhere on Christmas?” Johnny asks him, almost sure that Taeyong will say no.

“I wish I could,” Taeyong's voice is tired and husky, but Johnny can hear how still tender it is. “But I'm sick a bit… Living at grandma's, can't make mom fall sick too.”

“God, Taeyong…”

“It's just a cold, I'm good. Just don't want to infect you, too. Have a great Christmas for me too?”

Johnny sighs, closing his eyes. He tries to collect his thoughts, to organize them, to find a solution.

“Talk to me anytime, okay? I miss you.”

Taeyong lets out a small laugh.

“I miss you too, Johnny. But I…”

“I understand. I just…” Another sigh and forced smile. “I just wanted to see you.”

“I'll be alright, Johnny, very soon. I'm sorry…” Taeyong coughs, and his voice is even more husky than before. “S-sorry, it's a bit hard for me to talk right now.”

And just like this they say goodbye in hurry – Taeyong is fighting another coughing fit, and Johnny physically can't take it.

On the next day there’s another page of doodles in his profile. His forms are changing and not in a bad way, and Johnny smiles – Taeyong out there finally having a time to draw.

_I hope you feel better and the cold is giving up._

_I hope your workload won't be so big and you can take it easy._

_I hope preparations are running smoothly._

_I really miss you._

There's not much happening in Taeyong's life except his mom's preparations and basic work overload which he really used to, yet his coping mechanism running on full power, dragging him away from where he actually wants to be as if it's a War Rig. 

All Taeyong wants is to hide in Johnny's hands and cry as much as he wants, releasing all stress that was burning him from inside all this time. The fear he forgot was existing in him for a long time, and now, when he's reminded of all this mess few years ago – when he thought he'll lose his mom, – it's even more painful. Mostly because all those years she was fine and healthy and god, he forgot she still needed another surgery.

But now, when he's reminded, all his fears are back and stabs him in his heart, so bright, so vivid.

He wears his best smile for his mom though – she's scared no less.

“God, when I can't even think straight,” Taeyong types a message to Ten, who's all busy with his family business and recovery after his own sickness. It was just natural for Taeyong to share his worries and always listen to Ten's, but – yet again, – little did he knew.

Ten's response is not harsh, but somehow annoying and hurts even more – it's just an emoji of eyeroll, nothing more, and then – another message but with something else: Ten's clients, partners and stuff.

Taeyong feels strange – rereading message again and again he tries to concentrate, to figure out. Maybe it's how Ten's helping him – distracting with something he thinks is funny. Maybe he just not in the mood to reply properly or also dealing with loads of work.

But then it happens again and again – in different occasions, on different topics, even when it's not about Taeyong being nervous or stressed, and soon Taeyong asks himself: should he even text Ten again or reply him next time? And this thought is scary too because there's no way you give up on someone who you talked to for 5 years, every day.

And if nothing happens in Taeyong's life, there's so much in his head. He thinks about his mom – but you know that already, – about Johnny, and how he doesn't want Johnny to be nervous or spend his time and energy on him, about how Taeyong acts like dick ghosting on him while constantly texting Ten. And about Ten: what if Taeyong was moping around too much, what if he annoys him, what if Ten only waits a right moment to bail on him? About everyone else – practically the same.

He's trying not to think about it, of course – drawing, learning something new, reading his favorite books, going out with colleagues who doesn't care about him enough for Taeyong to start baring his soul to them.

After one of that parties ends up with a sudden cold that takes Taeyong down as a sniper rifle. And even in bed, with a fever and constant rainfall from his nose, he manages to draw something.

He figures out a lot – about himself, about what he really wants to do, who he wants to be. He spends a lot of time trying to switch from one thought – the anxious thought, – to another; he's reading fairy tales, book after book, marathons his favorite movies one by one, and trying to dig himself out of the ditch with a whole lots of tasks assigned to him.

And just like this comes new year and January flies by. Somewhere in town Johnny is fighting himself, trying not to lose hope, waiting and waiting for Taeyong to show up. He's searching for Taeyong in every face on the streets, in his doodles that were left in Johnny's room, in their favorite places.

And if you think that Johnny should interfere – well.

Somewhere in mid-February, when the snow finally started to melt, Johnny is in the studio, working on the photos he took lately – few photoshoots with beautiful people in beautiful settings, something he wasn't keen of working on, but still did here and there – just for practice and money. And without Taeyong Johnny was doing exactly the same as his temporarily missed boyfriend – working and reconsidering his own life.

Taeil is also there, organizing papers and appointments, glasses on the tip of his nose, hair in a mess. He's the first to look up when the door of the studio opens slowly.

“Hello?”

It’ Taeyong, of course, a little shy, a little scared, smiling carefully as he's observing the studio. Johnny in his wearing headphones on, so focused on the screen and photos he took that he can't notice Taeil's jump and happy smile.

“You don't even know how he annoyed me with his half-moping, half-raging!” Taeil blatantly said, while Taeyong moved closer to where Johnny was working. “I hope you won't leave like this again; it was an ass move.”

“Uh, I know?” Taeyong raises his eyebrows a bit – he wasn't expecting something like this from Taeil since they seen each other twice at most; but it makes him smile – he absolutely can imagine Johnny with his resting bitch face suddenly punching something that was on his way by accident or scrunching his nose and hiding face when as when he's sad or annoyed. “I won't go.”

Taeyong is standing in front of Johnny's desk, unable to move any more, scared to take his attention away from the screen; he doesn't know how to explain himself but he probably still should – in any way possible. Words are stuck in his throat and on his tongue when Johnny finally lifts his head – and takes off his headphones with sharp movement.

“Hey,” is all Taeyong can muster.

Johnny just nods, as if he's unable to process the reality. But it is reality – Taeyong is in front of him, a bit worn out, a bit too pale and tired, but it's still him. As if he grew few years older through these two months – it's all in his eyes and how he holds his back and hands. But face still young – and even younger with his hair back to brown.

“You're back.”

“If you still need me.”

“I always do,” Johnny shakes his head, fingers fidgeting. “Is everything okay?”

Taeyong nods slowly. “Yep. A-okay, if I might say… With everyone.”

Johnny's smile is just a bit wry – mostly because of how he's trying to act cool at least for once, to be selfish as everyone recommended, but. It's Taeyong in front of him.

They talk a lot after that: about how these months went for both of them. About Johnny's photography projects, about Taeyong filling his sketchbooks with something he always wanted to draw but was scared to do; about parents – and how much they mean for them; about fear of death and fear of life. About how everything is different when you're scared of losing someone dear to you – how friend is more of a habit than a friend, even after so many years, how someone you met just few months ago fills the hole in your chest even when you're apart.

How important it is to let people care for you – and how important to let them fight their battle on their own and wait until the battle over.

They sleep in the same room after a very long time, and Johnny looks at the ceiling, his senses are sharpened as if it's Taeyong's pencils – he started to use a knife on them. He can hear Taeyong breathing, he can feel his warmth and his fingers holding onto Johnny's wrist.

And he can feel the serenity spreading on him – as he thinks about how every second of this night and every night after was worth the wait.


End file.
